


Crash

by Angeltiny13



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Background Relationships, Banter, Blow Jobs, Bottom Park Seonghwa, Dirty Talk, Dreamcatcher cameos because I'm SomniAtiny filth, Drinking, Enemies to Lovers, Fingering, Fluff and Smut, Friends With Benefits, Hand Jobs, Hongjoong doesn't know what's going on, Hongjoong is a Music Producer, Hongjoong is having none of his shit, I'm just ranting now, Idiots in Love, Innacurate figure skating lingo, Jongho confident flirt, M/M, Making Out, Minor Angst, Seonghwa is a figure skater, Seonghwa is an asshole, Sexual Tension, Switch Kim Hongjoong, Top Park Seonghwa, Why isn't there more of that?, Yunho means well, and neither does the author, but he's just big sad, ignore me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:54:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24954868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angeltiny13/pseuds/Angeltiny13
Summary: If Yunho hadn’t basically kidnapped Hongjoong from his studio, he’d still be there right now. He’d be there perfecting the bass drop and bridge of a song he’d been working on for a month, instead of at an ice rink waddling around the edge so he didn’t bust his ass. That is, until someone ran into him. He didn’t even have a chance to clumsily maneuver himself out of the way, before he hit the ground, and everything went black.
Relationships: Choi Jongho/Kang Yeosang, Choi San/Jung Wooyoung, Jeong Yunho/Song Mingi, Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 90
Kudos: 459





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to my beautiful friend. Her idea sparked this.  
> Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. XOXO

If Yunho hadn’t basically kidnapped Hongjoong from his studio, he’d still be there right now. He’d be there perfecting the bass drop and bridge of a song he’d been working on for a month, instead of at an ice rink waddling around the edge so he didn’t bust his ass. He gripped the wall, dragged his feet across the ice, tried to ignore the little girl in pigtails that kept passing him with ease.

“Loosen up, Stiff,” Yunho called as he glided past Hongjoong, gloved hand tucked in Mingi’s.

Hongjoong opened his mouth to tell Yunho to shut the fuck up, but the little girl was back so he closed it just as quickly. He really hated his friends sometimes. The chilly air pinched his cheeks and snapped at his ears.

Sniffling, he wiped his nose and searched for the exit. It wasn’t terribly crowded for a Tuesday afternoon, so he hoped he’d be able to stomp over with no problem. Jongho was probably distracted turning pirouettes or whatever in the middle of the ice with the advanced skaters. Maybe Hongjoong could escape without any of them noticing. He couldn’t believe people willingly spent hours in these freezing temperatures, running around with knives on their feet. Psychos.

He at least wanted a hot chocolate if he had to be out here in the stupid cold. After finally reaching the exit, he carefully stepped his right foot over the threshold.

“Hyung, could you—”

“Look out!”

Hongjoong turned to answer Jongho, but someone else ran into him. He didn’t even have a chance to clumsily maneuver himself out of the way, before he hit the ground, and everything went black. 

-

The first thing Hongjoong noticed when he woke was how the back of his head throbbed with a sharp pain. The second was how a dull ringing in his ears muffled the voices above him. Above him, oh yeah. He blinked until colors and fuzzy shapes became clear.

 _Woah_.

The face above him looked unfairly perfect. A narrow nose, full pink lips, wide set eyes, black hair plastered to his sweaty forehead, groomed brows pinched together in worry. It’d been a nice life, Hongjoong thought. Sure, he didn’t accomplish everything he wanted, but he had lofty goals, so he didn’t blame himself. He surely didn’t think he qualified for heaven, but he wasn’t going to question it.

“You’re awake,” the face said, voice sounding like it was underwater.

Hongjoong tried to nod but he just felt like going back to sleep. Naps were allowed in heaven, right?

Something soft and warm and tickly cupped his cheek. “Hey, hey don’t close your eyes. Shit,” the face hissed.

Okay, swearing definitely wasn’t allowed in heaven, but Hongjoong thought hell was supposed to be hot. Where was he?

“The paramedics are here.”

That sounded like Yunho. Yunho who was dating Mingi. Mingi who worked at a restaurant with Jongho. Jongho. The scenes came filtering in, hazy like pointillist paintings. He’d wanted something but Hongjoong never found out what. Before he could ask, a bright light flashed in his eyes.

“Follow the light for me,” said a man’s voice he didn’t recognize.

He did as he was told, following the light right to left and back like a pendulum. He blinked away the colored spots when the light clicked off.

“Can you tell me your name, kid?”

Hongjoong bit his tongue. Yeah, he was a bit on the shorter side, but he was a grown ass man, damn it. “Kim Hongjoong,” he answered the shitty stranger.

“Age?”

“Twenty-two.”

“Birthday?”

“November 7th.”

“Year?” the man prompted.

“1998, I said I’m twenty-two. Do the math.”

“There he is,” said Yunho, laughing.

“I meant the current year, but that works too.” The man chuckled, placing his hands around Hongjoong’s shoulders. “Sit up for me.”

Hongjoong did, rubbed his aching head and looked around. Yunho, Mingi, and Jongho watched him carefully. Standing next to them was the angel from earlier who somehow managed to look both distraught and annoyed and another man who looked like a prince with his wavy golden-brown hair. Hongjoong was in neither heaven nor hell, unless the community center skating rink counted as purgatory.

The man dressed in the bright orange paramedic uniform helped Hongjoong stand. “He’ll be fine. Nothing but a mild concussion. Just take it easy for the rest of the day.”

“But I have to—”

Yunho stepped between Hongjoong and the paramedic, hands raised. “We’ll take really good care of him. Thanks for all your help, sir.” Yunho did that strained polite laugh he does whenever he’s stressed.

Why was _he_ stressed? He wasn’t the one who had a deadline to meet by the week’s end. He wasn’t the one with the mild concussion that would probably prevent him from meeting said deadline. Hongjoong didn’t even want to be here in the first place. He wanted to stay in his studio and work on his music. After the paramedic left, he walked away to find the concession stand.

The lady at the counter stared at him, eyes big and round. Clearly, she’d seen the whole thing go down and looked at Hongjoong as if he were a ghost.

“Can I get one hot chocolate?” When she only blinked, he forced out a tense, “Please?”

“Make that two,” came a voice from Hongjoong’s right.

He looked over and there was the angel again, still here and still very much real. Hongjoong didn’t stare too long.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“As much as I can be with a concussion.”

“Mild,” he corrected, and suddenly Hongjoong didn’t think he deserved the title of angel anymore.

“Well, I guess I should count myself lucky given how fast you ran into me.”

“You were in the way.”

Hongjoong turned toward him, astonished at the man’s audacity. Before he could snap back, the lady set two cups of steaming hot chocolate on the counter. He snatched it and walked away. He had a headache anyway, and he didn’t want to risk stumbling over his words trying to argue with this asshole. His stupid, beautiful face made it hard enough.

As Hongjoong rejoined his friends, he heard a deep voice yelling behind him along with the angel’s defensive retorts. Yunho tried to say something, but Hongjoong just shook his head, sipped his hot chocolate, and kept walking.

Yunho dropped Hongjoong off at his apartment and left only after he was convinced Hongjoong wouldn’t do any more work for the rest of the day. And he didn’t, too pissed off and annoyed to listen to anything with a clear ear. So, he ordered out and spent the day on his couch marathoning reruns of his favorite drama until he fell asleep.

***

The next day, Hongjoong was back in the studio and had finally hit his stride. To his surprise, the flow had even allowed him to finish the track that was due Friday. However, he wouldn’t attest this fresh inspiration to their outing yesterday, at least not to Yunho’s face. Either way, he decided to let the finished production marinate for the day and work on other projects, even jotting down some lyrics in between as they came to him.

While he was in the middle of mixing some guide vocals he received, the intercom buzzed. He rolled his chair to the back wall of his studio and picked up the phone. “Yes?”

“You have a visitor. A Mr. Park Seonghwa?” the receptionist said.

Hongjoong’s brows dipped in confusion. He didn’t know anyone by that name last time he checked, so he asked what he wanted.

“He said he’s here for business.”

That was even stranger. Hongjoong was just an intern at KQ Entertainment, having been with the company for only a few months now. He certainly was not at the level for any professional to be calling on him out of nowhere, especially by name. “Okay, I’ll be down in a minute.”

The dress code at KQ was pretty casual, unless they had meetings with clients or executives. Eden didn’t say they had any meetings today, so Hongjoong was just in some bleached, destroyed skinny jeans and a black and white stripe long sleeve that swallowed his small frame whole. Before he went down, he tucked in his shirt, cleaned off his clear frame glasses, and ran his fingers through his platinum hair.

As he rode the elevator to the ground floor, he rocked back and forth on his heels, trying his best not to crease his tennis shoes. The elevator dinged, signaling the doors to slide open. This was the corporate floor, so several suited businessmen and women buzzed around chatting on their cellphones. Hongjoong went straight to the desk, not wanting to embarrass himself and go up to the wrong person. “You said I had a visitor,” he whispered.

With a wry smile, the receptionist pointed her pen over Hongjoong’s shoulder. Whoever was behind him cleared their throat.

Hongjoong turned around and came face to face with the asshole from the day before. “What are you doing here?” he asked, crossing his arms and stepping aside so they didn’t block the desk.

The stranger, who was named Park Seonghwa apparently, narrowed his eyes; his jaw clenched. “I came…” he took a breath, “I came to apologize…for yesterday.” He lifted a plastic bag that had several mouth-watering sweet and spicy smells billowing out of it.

“How did you even find me?”

“My friend Yeosang found out from your friend—Jongho, was it?” He shifted his weight from foot to foot.

 _Jongho?_ They hadn’t stuck around the skating rink to talk at all, so when did he— “Wait, like over the phone?”

Seonghwa coughed to hide his laugh as the realization must’ve been all over Hongjoong’s face. Hongjoong had been passed out and Jongho was _flirting_ with the friend of the guy who knocked him out? He really had to get better friends. Judging by the way Seonghwa fidgeted, though, his friend Yeosang must’ve made him come apologize.

“So, are you going to take the food or no?” Seonghwa asked.

No, Hongjoong wouldn’t make it that easy for him. Maybe he wanted to get back at him. Maybe he was bored. Maybe he was in one of his chaotic moods. No matter the reason, Hongjoong wasn’t going to let him escape without a scratch. “I actually haven’t taken my break yet, so you could stay for a while.”

“Can’t. Busy.”

“Oh,” Hongjoong put his hands behind his back, pouted, “well I could just tell Jongho to tell Yeosang that you never came by.”

Seonghwa glared at Hongjoong. His grip around the bag’s handle tightened. “Fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “But I really can only stay for an hour. I have to be on the other side of town by two.”

“That’s plenty of time.” Hongjoong grinned and led the way back to the elevator, steps light and bouncy. They spent the short ride to the third floor in silence, standing on opposite sides of the cramped space.

Out of the corner of his eye, Hongjoong watched Seonghwa survey the office, expression hardly readable. He stopped at the fifth door on the right. “This is me,” he announced, as he let them in. Hongjoong plopped into his office chair and gestured to the leather loveseat on the left wall.

“What is it that you do exactly?” Seonghwa asked, taking a seat and setting the food on the low coffee table.

“I’m interning, so a little bit of everything, but I mainly produce, compose, arrange.” After a bit, he added, “I write a little on the side.”

Seonghwa simply nodded. He started taking the to-go boxes from the bag. “I picked up some chicken and coke. Jongho said you wouldn’t mind but I’m pretty sure Yeo just wants me to have leftovers.”

Hongjoong rolled his chair over and took the box and chopsticks Seonghwa handed to him. “You two live together?”

Seonghwa hummed in affirmation. It seemed he was trying his damndest to avoid conversation. That only encouraged Hongjoong more. “So, what do you do, besides give random strangers concussions? I’m fine by the way. Thanks for asking.” A small voice told Hongjoong he should probably cool it, but Seonghwa’s priceless reactions made it totally worth the risk.

“I’m a professional figure skater,” he answered, “but I coach classes during the week.”

“You? Coach?” Hongjoong snorted. “I feel sorry for those kids,” he added before stuffing his face, tearing the tender meat from the bone.

Seonghwa set his food on his lap. “Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked, vein bulging on his forehead.

“Quite a bit, yes.”

“What’s your deal?”

“What’s _your_ deal? I’m not the one whose friend told him to apologize like a child.”

Seonghwa exhaled through his nose. “Okay, fine. I’m sorry I ran into you. I’m sorry I gave you a concussion. I’m sorry I was rude.” His voice rose, but the last part came out quieter, more fragile. He kept his eyes on his to-go box. “I… haven’t been having the best week.”

Hongjoong watched him, really looked at him for the first time. His hair, that had been mostly covered with a beanie last time, fell in soft waves over his forehead. He wore a blazer over a plain white tee and black jeans. A pair of polished pointed toe boots finished the look.

“Happy now?” Seonghwa asked, looking up.

Hongjoong dropped his gaze back to his chicken. “Yeah.” Dumb. It was really dumb how his chest squeezed. Maybe making him stay wasn’t the best idea after all. Hongjoong took the coke from the table and gulped down half the bottle.

Seonghwa’s phone rang, pleasant wind chimes disrupting the quiet. He looked at Hongjoong, and Hongjoong shook his head, letting him know he didn’t mind. Seonghwa took the call right outside the door.

Hongjoong checked his own phone. A couple emails he’d check later, one missed text. He tapped the notification.

Jongho: Enjoy lunch, Hyung!

Hongjoong typed a quick, irritated reply:

i’m gonna kill you

Another message came in right after.

Jongho: :)

Before Hongjoong could make his threat more colorful, Seonghwa came back in. His hair looked like he’d run several hands through it and the bags beneath his eyes looked more pronounced.

“You good?” Hongjoong asked, before he had any idea if he had a right to.

“Huh? Yeah, it’s nothing.” He sat back on the couch, let his head fall against the wall. Staring at the ceiling, he said, “Just a shitty week getting shittier.”

Hongjoong didn’t know what to do. Up to this point, he only knew how to push his buttons, something he was getting good at rather quick. But this was territory he wasn’t sure how to navigate.

Seonghwa sighed and checked his phone. “I should really get going.” He stood and started wiping the coffee table down with napkins from the bag. He gathered his things and Hongjoong finally snapped out of whatever daze he was in when he paused by the door, waiting.

“Right. I’ll, uh, I’ll walk you down.” Hongjoong led them back to the lobby. They didn’t talk the whole way, didn’t really have much to talk about.

Seonghwa nodded his goodbye and turned, started walking toward the revolving doors.

Hongjoong untangled his tongue. “Thank you,” he called out, nervously playing with his fingers behind his back. _Fuck, just be cool, Hongjoong._

Seonghwa turned around, lips quirked in a confused smirk.

“If you,” Hongjoong tugged on his sleeves, ignored his ricocheting thoughts, “If you wanted a break from your shitty week, my friends and I go out to this bar in Itaewon every Friday. You could come,” Hongjoong shrugged, “if you wanted.”

The silence before he answered felt endless. “Yeah, okay.”

“Really?” Hongjoong quickly composed his eager surprise. “Cool. Well, I’ll have Jongho text Yeosang the details.”

“Or you could just text me yourself.”

Hongjoong coughed, then cleared his throat. “Right, yeah, that makes more sense.”

Seonghwa walked back over to stand in front of Hongjoong, which was incredibly dangerous for Hongjoong’s health as he noticed his height. Hongjoong slipped his phone out of his back pocket, unlocked it, and handed it over, their hands brushing on the exchange. His phone in Seonghwa’s large hand as his slender fingers slid over the screen. Hongjoong focused on breathing before he passed out, the fault coincidentally being Seonghwa’s again.

Seonghwa gave the phone back. “Well, I’ll see you Friday then.”

“Yeah,” Hongjoong answered weakly.

Seonghwa raised his hand in a slight wave, then pushed through the revolving doors and joined the downtown crowd.

Hongjoong wanted to scream for a number of reasons, but lunch was over and the receptionist was watching with a smug smirk, so he just went back to his studio and tried to get some work done before five o’clock hit.

***

The Alley Fox was by no means a fancy establishment. With its three tables, one corner booth and bar counter, a seat was hard to come by; come Friday a crowd of people flooded the space regardless. The soju was decent and, most importantly, cheap. It also helped that Jongho picked up shifts from time to time and could slip them a free round when he was working.

Hongjoong wasn’t the biggest fan of the weekends when Jongho had to work, since that basically made him the third wheel on Yunho and Mingi’s bike. They were always considerate at the beginning of the night, but that usually changed after a few shots. At that point, Hongjoong kept busy by challenging random people to darts or pool, or he just hung out at the bar with Jongho if it wasn’t too packed. Because of these group dynamics, he was also always the unofficial designated driver.

Tonight would be different, though. He had a friend coming. _Wait, friend?_ That was being way too generous. All throughout the day Friday, Hongjoong turned this detail over and over, examined it from every angle.

He invited Seonghwa out to drinks because he looked like he needed it, but it didn’t register until much later that this essentially meant Hongjoong would have to entertain him, make sure he had a good time. Why did he even care? Hongjoong had friends that yanked him from his frenzied head and made sure he didn’t overwork himself. Foxy Fridays (as Mingi so cleverly coined them) became a thing for that exact reason. It seemed like Seonghwa had Yeosang, so what was Hongjoong stepping in for?

Hongjoong threw the useless thought away as he pulled a black t-shirt over his head. He jumped into a pair of leather pants, slipped on some silver rings, and filled every one of his many ear piercings with silver cuffs and posts. After settling on some chunky black sneakers, he grabbed his keys and wallet and headed out.

As he drove to Mingi and Yunho’s, his phone buzzed in the cup holder. He glanced down and saw the preview from Seonghwa saying he was on the way. Damn, didn’t the guy ever hear about being fashionably late?

At a stoplight, he texted back a quick ‘ok’ and let Yunho know he was around the corner. He wasn’t, but his two friends, namely Mingi, had a habit of taking their time. This wasn’t usually a problem, since it had always been just them, but his guest just _had_ to be the punctual type.

Once he picked Yunho and Mingi up, it was another fifteen minutes before they reached the bar. Luckily, they made it just before the rush and saw their usual corner booth was still empty. They waved at Jongho who was behind the bar as they passed but he was too engrossed in conversation with— _Oh_. Hongjoong recognized the golden-brown hair from the other day. If Yeosang was here, then that meant…

“Hey,” Seonghwa greeted once they reached the table.

“You’re here way early,” Hongjoong quipped, unable to help himself.

He shrugged. “We were in the area.”

Judging by the way he was dressed (his outfit consisted of a cream cashmere sweater and slim dark wash jeans) and his fragrant air of superiority, Hongjoong doubted that but didn’t say anything.

He slid into the booth beside Seonghwa. He made this bed and now he had to lie in it. Just entertain the guy for a few hours, get him at least a _little_ tipsy, and he could call it a night. Seeing Seonghwa’s stiff posture, though, maybe he needed more than a few drinks and fast, before Hongjoong threw his snobby ass across the room, height difference be damned.

Jongho came over and set two bottles of soju and four shot glasses with napkins on the table. He twisted open the tops. “Did you want anything else, Hyung?” he asked, glancing toward Seonghwa.

Hongjoong looked at Seonghwa too, brows raised in question.

“I’m good,” he answered.

Mingi interjected. “Actually, can we get a fry basket?”

“With the jalapenos?”

Mingi nodded ecstatically, making Jongho laugh. Okay, maybe the soju wasn’t the only reason they came out to this bar. “It’ll be out in a few,” Jongho said, before popping through the door behind the bar to relay the order.

“You do eat French fries, don’t you?” Hongjoong asked Seonghwa.

Seonghwa narrowed his eyes, defensive. “I do.”

Hongjoong grabbed the bottle from the table and filled one of the shot glasses a little over halfway. He slid it toward Seonghwa. “Would you relax? It was just a joke.”

Seonghwa hesitated before taking the glass and swallowing the shot.

“Alright, Hong, hand it over,” Mingi said, making grabby hands for the bottle. He filled the rest of the group’s glasses and refilled Seonghwa’s. They clinked the rims and knocked them back.

Hongjoong clicked his tongue at the subtle burn in his throat.

Once the basket of fries arrived, so did the crowd. They had to raise their voices a bit to hear each other over the din.

“You finished that song in time, right?” Yunho asked, body leaned against Mingi’s.

Hongjoong perked up. “Yeah. Eden said they’d get back to me Monday with the feedback but told me it’s pretty close to a final draft.”

“Nice,” Mingi cheered, reaching for another handful of fries. “Good thing we took you skating.”

Hongjoong scoffed, scrunching his nose. “Doubt it. Or did you forget what happened that fast?”

“It wasn’t _all_ bad,” Yunho joked, shooting his gaze to Hongjoong’s left. “What do you do, Seonghwa?”

Hongjoong stared Yunho down, warning him he better not do anything embarrassing. Yunho ignored his glare, still smiling at Seonghwa.

“I…” he faltered under the attention, “I’m a professional figure skater and I teach.”

“Figure skating?”

“Yeah, to kids.”

Yunho hummed. “That’s really cool. It’s weird then, you running into Hongjoong, if you’re professional.”

“I was distracted,” he said, voice surprisingly earnest.

“By Hongjoong? He is really cute, isn’t he?” Yunho cooed.

“Yunho-ah!” Hongjoong yelped. He risked a glance at Seonghwa from the corner of his eye. His face was flushed but Hongjoong blamed it on the alcohol. His own ears were heating up and he blamed that on the alcohol and the crowd. He slammed his hands on the table and stood.

“Where you going?” Mingi asked.

“Bathroom,” he grumbled, before doing just that. Hongjoong maneuvered through the packed house to the bathroom, the buzz in his head making his steps feel fluid. Somehow, after fighting with his tight leather pants, he managed to relieve himself. Before going back out he stared in the mirror and willed himself to chill the fuck out.

So what if Yunho got a kick out of agitating him? So what if Seonghwa didn’t answer? None of it meant anything. And he was determined to make it through this night and never make this mistake again. He ran a hand through his wet-looking platinum hair, then left the bathroom.

Hongjoong shouldered through a rowdy bunch to get to the bar. “One Somaek please,” he called. The closest bartender that heard him nodded, flipping a towel over his shoulder. After a few minutes, he slid the glass across the counter along with the opened bottle of beer. Hongjoong took it and returned to the table but didn’t sit.

He ignored his friends’ curious stares, simply swallowed the whole drink in three gulps, then finished the beer. “You,” he pointed at Seonghwa with the empty bottle, “me, darts.”

Seonghwa just blinked.

Yunho sat up. “Um, you think sharp objects is a good idea right now?”

“Shh shh shh,” Hongjoong hissed, leaning over the table to press his finger to Yunho’s lips. “Stop.” He turned back to Seonghwa. “What are you still sitting for? No, actually,” Hongjoong poured Seonghwa another shot, “drink up first.”

Seonghwa watched him carefully but took the shot all the same. He got up and followed Hongjoong to the one unoccupied dart board.

Without exchanging any unnecessary pleasantries, Hongjoong handed him the blue darts, while he took the red. They played in hostile silence and realized pretty quickly that neither of them could shoot straight to save their lives. Before the end of the game, Hongjoong gave up (although he would prefer to call it strategic forfeiture) and went back to the bar to order a beer.

He felt a hand press to the small of his back and he jumped, glancing over to see Seonghwa beside him. He was sufficiently a little more than tipsy now but doubted that that was someone else’s hand.

“One beer for me too, please,” Seonghwa called out.

What arrived were two beers and a receipt for the closed tab. Hongjoong opened his mouth to protest but Jongho gave him a look that stopped him. Hongjoong sighed, snatching the bottle and turning around to lean against the counter. He took a swig and watched the different groups around the bar having a way better time than he was.

Seonghwa leaned against the bar too, forearms resting on the surface. “Your shirt,” Seonghwa said after a while, “did you do that yourself?” He pointed to the detached sleeve, held together only by countless safety pins.

“Oh this?” Hongjoong tugged at the sleeve. “Yeah, I did.” He wasn’t sure if Seonghwa meant it as a compliment, so he kept it short.

“Figures,” Seonghwa muttered, then took a sip of his drink.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hongjoong straightened, turning to him.

“Nothing, you just have a _thing_.”

“What is it? Since you’ve got me all figured out.”

“The clothes, the hair, the piercings, the job. Looks like the makings of an edgy art kid to me.”

Hongjoong inhaled, sharpened his tongue on his teeth. “Listen, I don’t know who you’re calling kid, but I’d rather have a personality than a stick up my ass.”

Seonghwa’s eyes widened; his shoulders rose. “A stick— I do _not_ have a stick up my ass,” he sputtered.

“Yeah,” Hongjoong stepped in front of him, dropped his voice low, “maybe you need something else up there and then you’d learn some manners.”

He savored the reaction that drew from the taller man—mouth hanging open, neck and face flushed a deep scarlet. Hongjoong took another step forward until their shoes touched. Grabbing Seonghwa’s collar, he twisted it in his fist and tugged until his mouth was level with his ear. He whispered, “But I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction.”

Without missing a beat, Seonghwa whispered back, “What makes you think I’d let you top?”

Hongjoong pulled back, grip slackening but not letting go. He studied Seonghwa’s face, waiting for him to take back his words, to sputter in embarrassment and regret, to at least look surprised.

There was none of that in his expression.

Seonghwa raised his chin, looking down his nose at Hongjoong, not in a condescending way but like he was challenging him.

Hongjoong released his collar and snatched his wrist, dragging him away from the bar. They stopped by the table, so Hongjoong could toss his card and keys to Yunho. “We’re catching a cab,” he stated plainly.

Yunho and Mingi looked from Hongjoong, who was still holding Seonghwa’s wrist, to Seonghwa and back again, confusion obvious.

“Jongho can drive you guys back in my car.”

Yunho looked like he wanted to ask a million and one questions, but he just nodded. “O— okay.”

Hongjoong led them out of the bar and hailed a taxi. As soon as the driver took off toward the address he was given, Seonghwa leaned over, placed a hand on Hongjoong’s cheek and kissed him.

Hongjoong was taken by surprise, not by the action but by how gentle his lips were. He expected the heat between them to erupt in intense passion, but the way Seonghwa moved against him was more a soft, radiant warmth. For the first time, Hongjoong breathed. He stuttered on the exhale. “What was that?” he muttered, watching the passing streetlights throw shadows across Seonghwa’s sweater.

“You were right,” Seonghwa said, voice a honeyed timber, “I need a break from my shitty week.” He drew circles with his thumb over Hongjoong’s cheek, coaxed him to look up. “I need a break from feeling shitty.”

Before Hongjoong had a chance to process his words, his mouth was occupied again. One hand on Seonghwa’s shoulder and another on the back of his head, Hongjoong tugged him closer, tilted his head to deepen the kiss. Kissing Seonghwa felt like remembering something before it was too late, like remembering your wallet before you left the house. When Seonghwa’s tongue swiped across his lips, though, Hongjoong broke the kiss. “Wait, what changed?”

Seonghwa’s hand fell away from his cheek, and Hongjoong almost regretted saying something. He sat back against the seat, exhaled through his nose as he stared at the ceiling. “Truthfully, it’s been a lot longer than a tough week, months, really, of one wrong thing after the other.” He looked at Hongjoong then, the details of the emotion on his face hidden by the shadows of night. “I thought you were another of those wrong things, or, at least, I wanted you to be.”

“Why?” Hongjoong was genuinely baffled, not expecting to have taken up so much space in this man’s head.

“It was easier. It meant I could keep wallowing.”

He was still being vague, and it was starting to drive Hongjoong crazy. “What happened?” he asked, letting Seonghwa decide if he’d answer.

Seonghwa seemed to be searching for something in Hongjoong’s eyes.

“Here,” the driver called, still facing forward, probably wary of whatever could be happening in the backseat.

Seonghwa pulled his wallet from his back pocket and paid the fare. “I can just go home,” he mumbled, without looking at Hongjoong.

“What? No,” Hongjoong protested, leaning into Seonghwa’s space, startling him. He’d had enough. “You don’t get to kiss me, play Mr. Dark and Mysterious, and just leave. You still never answered my question, so you’re coming up.” Hongjoong grabbed his wrist again and pulled him out of the cab.

By now, a bit of the buzz had worn off, so Hongjoong remembered he had a spare key beneath the welcome mat. He shoved it into the lock and opened the door, still dragging Seonghwa behind him. He didn’t stop until they reached his bedroom and dropped onto the unmade bed. He didn’t bother to turn on the light.

“Alright, lay it on me,” Hongjoong prompted, crossing his arms.

“Do you mean…?” Seonghwa cleared his throat.

Hongjoong’s face heat up at the implication. “Your story. Jeez, get your head out of the gutter for a second.”

“Right,” Seonghwa coughed. “I, uh, I sprained my ankle before a competition. I…didn’t handle it well.”

“Clearly,” Hongjoong said, gently though.

“I lost some sponsors. That phone call the other day was another sponsor dropping. It’s been hard, getting back into the swing of things.”

Hongjoong’s mouth formed an “o” but no sound came out.

“It’s not your fault,” Seonghwa admitted quietly. “You just crashed into my life at a bad time.” He caught Hongjoong’s eyes.

The vulnerability in his face punched Hongjoong in the gut, sent lightning up his spine. Hongjoong licked his lips, body drifting back into Seonghwa’s orbit. They were so close they could practically taste the other’s words. “Is it still?” Hongjoong asked.

Seonghwa’s eyes flickered to Hongjoong’s lips. “Still what?”

“A bad time.”

“I don’t want it to be.”

“Then it doesn’t have to be.” Hongjoong took his face in both his hands and wasted no more of either of their time.

A grateful grunt rumbled in Seonghwa’s throat, as he kissed him back, finding the right angle to leave them both wrecked and breathless. Resting a hand on the bed on the other side of Hongjoong’s hip, he pressed open mouth kisses to his lips until Hongjoong was on his back and he hovered above him on hands and knees. Seonghwa raised his head.

Whatever Hongjoong was about to say faded from his blissed-out mind when he saw the way Seonghwa was looking at him. He rolled his head to the side, tried to catch his breath, aware of the heat crawling up his neck and settling on his cheeks.

“Where’s all that talk from the bar?” Seonghwa asked and Hongjoong was glad to hear the humor in his tone.

Not one to cave quick though, Hongjoong raised his knee to rub it between Seonghwa’s legs, slow enough to pull a bitten off moan from him. “What were you saying?” Hongjoong teased, applying more pressure.

Seonghwa’s only answer was to kiss him until his lungs threatened to give out. His tongue dove in, eager to touch and taste every part of him.

Hongjoong responded eagerly, fingers toying with the hem of Seonghwa’s sweater. He hooked an arm around Seonghwa’s neck, a leg around his waist, and flipped them over in one swift motion. Without giving him a moment to register the new position, Hongjoong straddled Seonghwa’s hips and ground against the bulge in his pants.

Seonghwa threw his head back and bit his lip to hold back a groan.

Hongjoong cupped his jaw, drew Seonghwa’s mouth open with his thumb. He let it rest there, rubbing idly across his bottom lip. “Let go,” he said, “Let it all go, just for tonight.” Hongjoong dragged himself over Seonghwa’s length and reveled in the way he unraveled, the heady gasp that escaped his open mouth. He hoped he’d never forget that look on his face, that aroused tension between control and surrender.

“I want…” Seonghwa attempted.

“What is it?” Hongjoong slowed down his movements to return Seonghwa at least a bit of his focus.

Seonghwa swallowed and Hongjoong’s gaze fixed on the way his throat moved. Before he could think, he dipped down and nipped at his neck. He sucked at the base of his throat until he was sure it would bruise. He licked the broken skin, before moving to the juncture of his jaw.

Damn, it had been so long, too long, since Hongjoong touched another person. He hadn’t realized how starved he was until now. The desperate hunger throbbed in him.

“Hongjoong-ah, please…” Seonghwa tried again.

“Hm?”

“M—more. Do something. I don’t care, blow me, ride me, take me, just _do something_. I need you.”

Those last words snapped something in Hongjoong. He sat up, but Seonghwa wouldn’t meet his eyes. Hongjoong willed the pounding in his chest to slow, as he took Seonghwa’s chin between his fingers and turned his face back to him. “Say it again.”

“I need you.”

“Again,” he commanded, as he crawled down Seonghwa’s body to kneel on the floor.

Seonghwa sat up, rubbed a hand over Hongjoong’s head. “I need you.”

It was that one word that stoked a dangerous fire deep in Hongjoong’s belly. _Need_. He could have so easily said want or just stopped at telling Hongjoong what he wanted him to do to him. And maybe Hongjoong was reading too much into it, maybe his head was running away with a fantasy, but he pushed all of those doubts down, so he didn’t get in his own way. He had a habit of that and had a feeling Seonghwa did too.

Instead he popped the button on Seonghwa’s jeans, pulled the zipper down with his teeth, and gave Seonghwa a look that promised he would take care of all his needs over and over and over again.

  
  



	2. One Night Stands and Other Impossibilities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tables turn.

When Hongjoong woke the next morning, his head felt like it was full of rocks and his body ached like he’d ran a marathon. His eyes fluttered open but closed quickly, the sunlight beaming through his window too harsh for his groggy state. He rolled over onto his stomach, pulling a pillow over his head. It was then he noticed his complete lack of clothes. It was also then that he remembered why his body hurt.

_ Oh. Right. _

The marathon metaphor wasn’t too far off. He shuddered as flashes from the night before played out. His thighs and knees throbbed with a dull pain from all the positions he ended up in. This was most likely his own fault. He knew he had a lot of energy in bed and had trouble finding partners who could keep up because of it. So, when Seonghwa obliged his suggestion of a second and then a third round, Hongjoong was all too eager to keep going. 

He was definitely paying for it, though. That on top of the hangover didn’t make for a great combination.

At the thought of the other man, Hongjoong peeked out from under his pillow only to find the other side of the bed empty. He wasn’t sure why he expected any different but a shiver ran through him all the same. Ignoring the way his chest deflated, he pulled the covers tighter around himself and went back to sleep. 

-

Hongjoong woke again around 2 P.M. to his phone vibrating. He aimlessly slapped his bedside table until his hand landed on his phone. After picking it up and unlocking it, he found a message from Seonghwa.

**Seonghwa:**

**Hey I think I left my socks at your place**

Slowly, Hongjoong sat up, ran a hand through his messy hair, and looked around his room. Sure enough, there was a pair of black socks too big to be his tossed carelessly on the floor. He texted back.

**Hongjoong:**

**yeah they’re here**

Hongjoong’s stomach growled, so he wrapped his blanket around his shoulders and dragged himself to the kitchen. He rummaged through the cabinets, the fridge, the freezer and all he found was a half-eaten bag of stale chips and chocolate bread. He really had to go grocery shopping. 

Once he settled on the couch, cheeks full of chocolate bread, his phone buzzed.

**Seonghwa:**

**I’ll be over in 20**

Hongjoong read the message about three times before it clicked that it meant Seonghwa would be at his apartment in twenty minutes. He looked around at all the sheet music and lyric journals scattered across his coffee table, his beat pad and open laptop on the floor, the keyboard propped up in the corner of the small living room. He looked down at himself, still undressed and needing a shower. Hongjoong had to make a decision. He couldn’t clean his apartment  _ and  _ himself in twenty minutes, but then again why did he care what Seonghwa thought of his place?

It shouldn’t matter.  _ It didn’t matter _ , he resolved. He was just coming to get his socks and go, so he really didn’t have to come inside anyway. Even if he did, it wouldn’t matter because Hongjoong didn’t care what Seonghwa thought. Hongjoong finished the bread and went to take a shower. They might’ve seen each other drunk and naked and a horny mess, but Hongjoong would not be caught not taking care of his personal hygiene. He had at least that much dignity to uphold. 

Just as he was exiting the bathroom fresher than he entered, there was a knock at the door. “One second,” he yelled. After dragging his towel across his dripping hair, he let it drape over his head. Hongjoong strode to his bedroom to swipe Seonghwa’s socks from the floor. 

More knocking. 

“I said one second!” He hustled back to answer the door, unlocking, then swinging it open. He shoved the balled up pair of socks into Seonghwa’s chest. “Here, Jesus.” 

Seonghwa caught them before they fell and stuck them into the pocket of his grey hoodie. Instead of leaving like Hongjoong thought he would, he kept his hands in his pocket and stared at Hongjoong. His eyes trailed all over Hongjoong’s face as if tracing every line and taking note of every detail.

“What’s that look for?” Hongjoong asked, as he shifted under the awkward pause, defensive but unaware against what.

“Nothing, just remembering,” Seonghwa answered casually.

“Remembering what exactly?”

“How you’re really just all talk.”

“I was tipsy!” Hongjoong scoffed, crossing his arms.

“You were whiny.” Seonghwa chuckled.

“Fuck you.”

“You could, I’m free.”

Hongjoong swallowed the spit that almost choked him. Making a quick recovery, he put his hand on the door as if to close it. “I’m busy.”

“Oh?” Unbothered, Seonghwa leaned against the doorframe, looked around the apartment, likely noticing the state of the living room. His lips quirked up, barely noticeable if Hongjoong hadn’t been glaring.

“Wipe that  _ smug _ look off your face.”

“Or what?”

Hongjoong didn’t know how to deal with this Seonghwa. He saw a glimpse of this bravado at the bar and remembered vague images from last night. Who does Park Seonghwa think he is, showing up on such short notice after ditching Hongjoong this morning without so much as a note? He didn’t need a handwritten letter on pretty stationary but goddamn would it have killed him to shoot a text? A  _ last night was fun ;)  _ text? The winky face may be overkill, sure, but the sentiment still stood. “ _ What  _ is your deal?” Hongjoong hissed, hoping the heat on his cheeks was from his shower.

“Payback.”

No, Hongjoong didn’t know how to deal with this one bit. One night stands he could do, most of the time, but Seonghwa wasn’t some stranger he picked up from the bar. Seonghwa was the guy who gave him a mild concussion, then brought him chicken to apologize against his will. Seonghwa was the guy Hongjoong invited out then took home, and somewhere in the midst of all that had shared some personal shit. 

He was prepared, for the most part, to dismiss whatever all of that was as a one off, a fun story to tell at parties, but Seonghwa was still leaning against the door frame looking like he wanted to swallow Hongjoong whole. 

“Is it working?” Seonghwa asked, voice low and measured.

Hongjoong felt hot all over and his brain had trouble processing the consequences of his next words. All he knew was that if Seonghwa wanted to play, Hongjoong would play the fucking game. “Why don’t you come inside and find out?”

Seonghwa charged forward, scooping Hongjoong up and slamming the door in one smooth motion. He pushed until Hongjoong’s back hit the kitchen island, chest pressed to chest, and eyes leering. 

Hongjoong couldn’t breathe. The abrupt stop made his heart pound so loud it rang in his ears.

Seonghwa drew his right hand down Hongjoong’s back, squeezed his ass, before continuing down his thigh and pulling it up to rest on his hip. 

He rolled his hips and Hongjoong could feel every bit of his hard on through his sweatpants. Hongjoong choked down a gasp.

When the fuck could Seonghwa make him so weak so easily? He hated and craved it all at the same time and he was pretty sure his brain was about to nose dive off a cliff if Seonghwa kept grinding against him. In a desperate attempt to gain control of the situation, he snatched Seonghwa’s collar, yanked him down until their lips slammed together. 

Hongjoong angled his head so he could lick into Seonghwa’s gasping mouth. He bit his bottom lip, tugged on it until Seonghwa winced. He leaned back to take a look at the damage.

Seonghwa’s eyes were wide, wild, wanton. He swiped his thumb across his lip, pulled it away red.

Hongjoong only smirked at his shock.

Seonghwa’s stare narrowed as if trying to pick Hongjoong apart piece by piece. Resolving some inner conflict, he dived in again to claim Hongjoong’s lips.

Somehow, despite Hongjoong’s melting awareness, he registered his feet leaving the ground and his ass landing on the island countertop. With the new height he shoved his shin between Seonghwa’s legs and revelled in the moan it drew from the other man. He leaned back on his hands, drinking in the unabashed hunger in Seonghwa’s heavy breathing. Seonghwa tried to follow him, but Hongjoong stopped him with a finger to his lips. “You really couldn’t go a day without me, huh? I’m flattered.” 

“You invited me inside,” Seonghwa said, his cheeky tone contrasting the way his eyes avoided Hongjoong’s.

“Please,” Hongjoong rolled his eyes, “you were practically begging me to.”

“Begging’s a strong word.”

“You’re right.” Hongjoong drew close enough for their noses to touch. “There’s still plenty of time to make you beg properly.”

Seonghwa looked like a deer caught in headlights but the look was there, then gone in a flash. Instead, he grabbed Hongjoong by his hips and kissed him deep and thorough. “You talk too much,” he mumbled against Hongjoong’s jaw.

“Thought you liked hearing me,” Hongjoong bit out as Seonghwa’s lips trailed down his throat.

“Hearing you moan not being an insufferable little demon.”

Hongjoong sucked in a breath as Seonghwa sucked on the juncture between his neck and shoulder. In retaliation, he rubbed his shin against the taller man’s length, earning a guttural groan. “I’m sorry what was that?” Hongjoong teased.

Seonghwa only glared, an entirely different heat behind it than before. He snatched Hongjoong’s towel from his head, tossing it over his shoulder. Another beat and Hongjoong’s shirt joined the floor.

Hongjoong tugged at the hem of Seonghwa’s hoodie, but a commanding grip around his wrists denied him the pleasure. “Um, not fair. Clothes off, Hwa.”

Seonghwa yanked Hongjoong forward until his ass barely sat on the edge of the counter, reached into Hongjoong’s pants without preamble and started stroking.

Hongjoong moaned. Loud. 

He clamped a hand over his mouth, swallowed another dirty sound on a particularly delicious upstroke.

Seonghwa smirked. 

“I’m calling you bad names in my head,” Hongjoong said, narrowing his eyes.

“Don’t hold back on my account,” Seonghwa challenged, then bent down and took Hongjoong into his mouth.

Hongjoong clutched the edge of the counter with one hand and the back of Seonghwa’s head with the other. His feet stroked up and down Seonghwa’s sides, unable to sit still with all the electric pleasure buzzing over and under his skin. 

Really, honestly, truly, damn Park Seonghwa. Hongjoong bit the inside of his cheek, refusing to give the other the satisfaction of making him squirm. His body was betraying him enough on that front. 

Seonghwa rose until he was only sucking on the head, pace slow but determined and driving Hongjoong up a wall. 

Despite himself, a low “fuck,” escaped his mouth with an exhale, making Seonghwa look up at him with a cocked eyebrow. Hongjoong pushed Seonghwa’s shoulders until he was standing upright again. He tried hard to catch his breath and the last bit of his sanity. He kicked off his pants, hopped off the countertop, and took Seonghwa’s hand dragging him to his bedroom. “My body hurts enough,” he grumbled. “You’re gonna do all the work since you’re so damn eager.” 

Once they reached the bed, Seonghwa swung him around, pulled Hongjoong close. 

Everything paused again, enough for Hongjoong to notice the dust floating in the afternoon light and haloing around Seonghwa’s head. He felt his breath flow like cool water from the top of his head to the tip of his toes. Seonghwa was giving him that look again, closed off but hooked, reluctantly mesmerized? Hongjoong couldn’t tell and he didn’t trust his horny mush of a brain to make any sound judgement calls at the moment. 

The thing about Seonghwa, Hongjoong was finding out, was that he could be speeding ninety-five miles an hour one moment and then come to a complete stop the next. Hongjoong was getting whiplash. He didn’t know whether it excited or terrified him, because in those stopped moments the silence between them loomed heavy, waiting to be filled with words he didn’t know how to utter, feelings he didn’t know how to give shape to. 

_ Fuck. Nope. Not going there.  _ Hongjoong pulled Seonghwa to him until they tumbled onto the bed. He kissed him, needy, aching, desperate for a distraction from thoughts that would get him into trouble and by trouble, he meant falling fast and landing on his ass alone and crying. 

Now was definitely the worst time to be revisiting his abandonment issues and obsessive tendencies.

Instead, he focused on Seonghwa’s weight against him, let it ground him in the present and not wander to dark corners. Still, he wasn’t going to beg Seonghwa to take care of him. And lose whatever game they were playing? No, he’d simply make his needs known through other means. 

Seonghwa rose above him on his hands and knees, staring, waiting, oddly enough, for Hongjoong to make the next move.

Hongjoong fluttered his lashes and stroked himself slow, making sure to spread the leaking precum up and down his length. Dragging a finger across his slit, he collected some and dipped his finger into his puckered hole. He gasped, pinning Seonghwa with half-lidded eyes as he fingered himself open. 

Hongjoong pulled his finger out, flopped his hands above his head, huffing. “I said you were gonna do all the work and here I am…”

Seonghwa dropped back from whatever planet he was on. He rolled his eyes. “Drama queen,”

“You like-  _ nngh _ ”

Seonghwa cut him off, pressing his middle finger against Hongjoong’s entrance. “Shhh,” he whispered, rubbing his thumb across Hongjoong’s bottom lip, “let me work.”

And work he did. One, two, then three fingers until Hongjoong threatened to kick him out if he didn’t hurry up, put a condom on and fuck him. 

Seonghwa grabbed one from the pile on the bedside table, slipped it on, and slathered his cock with lube. He ran his fingers down Hongjoong’s sides, tracing every dip and curve. When he reached his hips, Seonghwa tightened his grasp and pulled Hongjoong toward him until he rested on his thighs.

Hongjoong’s heart hammered, blurry memories from last night crashing into the clear reality of this moment. He closed his eyes when he felt the tip press against his hole.

“Breathe,” Seonghwa whispered. “I’ve got you.”

Hongjoong listened, took a deep breath, focused on Seonghwa’s thumbs pressing into his hip, his fingers into his lower back. When he felt the first inch, he inhaled just as Seonghwa exhaled. Hongjoong felt himself stretching open to accommodate. He kept his eyes closed, but looked up when Seonghwa started rubbing small, slow circles into his skin with his thumbs. 

Seonghwa’s mouth set open in concentration, he pulled Hongjoong to him as he pushed forward.

They gasped. 

“M- move, you can move,” Hongjoong muttered hastily longing for friction, for motion, for the sweet sound and feeling of Seonghwa slamming into him. 

Seonghwa didn’t tease, didn’t make Hongjoong ask twice; he pulled out then thrust in, bottoming out every time, until a heady rhythm was set. 

Hongjoong gritted his teeth, reveled in the wet velvet feeling of Seonghwa sliding in and out without pause or ceremony. He felt so tense and wound up in his hips and stomach that he pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes, mouth hanging slack with breathy huffs. It took all of two minutes before Hongjoong started stroking himself, chasing his orgasm like he was underwater and scrambling for the surface before he drowned.

Between the sound of Seonghwa sinking into him, his own jacking off, the creaking bed, Hongjoong wasn’t sure if he heard Seonghwa whisper, “pretty,” or if he just imagined it. It didn’t matter because in the next moment he was cumming all over his hand and stomach. He trembled as Seonghwa sped up to dive in after him. Feeling Seonghwa throb and pulse inside of his hole sent aftershocks up his spine, making his back arch off the bed. 

“Good?” Seonghwa asked, after calming down.

Hongjoong nodded.

Seonghwa pulled out, set Hongjoong’s hips back on the bed. He got up, left the room, then returned with the pack of wet wipes from the bathroom.

The cold wipe against his stomach made Hongjoong shiver.

“Sorry,” Seonghwa said, a slight quirk to his lips.

Hongjoong pouted. His eyelids and limbs felt so heavy. The center of his chest especially housed a pressure he didn’t want to acknowledge. “I had shit to do today,” he complained, rolling over and crawling to the top of the bed. 

Seonghwa laughed quietly.

Hongjoong pulled the comforter back then wrapped himself up. When he’d awake later he’d say it was because he was actually exhausted, but he knew, deep down, that he slept so he wouldn’t be tempted to ask Seonghwa to stay. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *peeks around corner*...hey, so, uh, didn't think I'd be here again. This wouldn't stop nudging me, though, so here I am continuing what was supposed to be a funny little one shot. I just couldn't resist the DRAMA. Anywho, I have a pretty general idea of the "plot" and where I want to end up. The kicker is finding the time to get it all down cause apparently my life doesn't know the definition of free time. I'll try my best but updates will be hella slow. I'm looking at probably 4 or 5 chapters total? 
> 
> I hope y'all enjoyed this smutty snack before we dive into conflict. First time writing it so I hope I made up for the open ending of the last chapter. Again, I had the most fun writing their banter >w< Leave comments and kudos to let me know what ya think! See y'all in the next one!


	3. Everything We Didn't Say

They fell into a sort of routine. Since Yeosang had become a regular addition to Foxy Fridays, consequently, so had Seonghwa. And Seonghwa, more often than not, ended up at Hongjoong’s by the end of the night. 

And Hongjoong? Hongjoong would wake to an empty bed the following morning. It didn’t bother him as much as he thought it would after a while. He worked best in absolutes, yes or no’s, black or whites. He didn’t ask Seonghwa but he used the context clues and drew the conclusion that they were, in fact, just friends with benefits.

So was the routine. During the week, they each did their own thing and Hongjoong was completely fine with that. He had no trouble keeping himself busy. Between his internship and the many creative ventures that stuffed his free time, like reforming his own clothes, painting, writing and producing his own personal projects, there wasn’t a whole lot of time to spend dissecting Seonghwa.

Except for the times he had no choice but to. Those days when Seonghwa would text him out of the blue something completely unrelated to any of the topics they’d hot potatoed at Foxy Fridays. Instead of finding Hongjoong on social media, Seonghwa would send a screenshot of a meme that left Hongjoong endearingly amused but also seriously questioning Seonghwa’s sense of humor. Or he’d ask Hongjoong what he was having for dinner that night, not because he was curious, he had explained, but because he needed ideas. He quickly found out Hongjoong was not the person to come to for five-star recipes. 

They weren’t conversations. Seonghwa would start, Hongjoong would respond, and that would be it. After a month, Hongjoong stopped trying to read into it. They were friends that fucked every Friday. That was it. 

Besides, he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t fun finding new ways to push Seonghwa to the edge while they were out with everyone. Hongjoong knew that all his friends knew about them. They didn’t really make an effort to hide it nor did they see the point of making some big announcement. He didn’t miss Yunho’s judgy eyes though. 

Hongjoong knew it was killing Yunho that he hadn’t talked to him about his little arrangement. They’d been best friends since elementary. If anyone knew Hongjoong inside and out, it was, at times unfortunately, Yunho. He knew as soon as he’d bring it up, Yunho would make it a bigger deal than Hongjoong had the emotional capacity to handle at the moment. 

Hongjoong was having fun getting dicked down with no attachments even if his bed was starting to feel too large for just him. It was chill. They were chill. Everything was fine.

-

“Happy birthday!” everyone shouted while Yeosang tucked his blushing face against Jongho’s shoulder. They clinked their glasses and knocked back shots of soju. 

Yunho and Mingi whooped and hollered, chanting for Yeosang to chug the mug of beer they had delivered to the table.

Yeosang looked around, conscious of the stares their shouts were attracting. “Why are y’all so loud?”

“Because it’s your birthday and you need to get to chuggin’!” Yunho answered.

Yeosang looked to Seonghwa, wide eyes pleading for help. Seonghwa shrugged, laughing. 

“It’s tradition,” Mingi elaborated, very serious.

Jongho nodded. “It is tradition.”

Yeosang scoffed. “I agreed to date you, not all your friends.” He glared, brows pinching in annoyance. Jongho pecked his nose, instantly melting the deadly scowl. He giggled at Yeosang’s flustered reaction and flimsy resolve. 

Hongjoong dropped his gaze to the empty shot glass in his hands.

Yeosang sighed and shoved Jongho, then took the mug of beer. He seemed to count to three in his head before raising the glass and tipping it back. Yunho and Mingi clapped to the rhythm of his gulps until he swallowed every drop and slammed the mug down. Jongho kissed away the golden foam left on his upper lip. 

Seonghwa applauded and Hongjoong rolled his eyes at his incurable formality. 

The sharp caw of a bird interrupted the festivities. It repeated until Yeosang picked up his phone. “Hello?” he greeted, then yanked the phone away from his ear when whoever was on the other end yelled loud enough for the whole table (and probably the whole bar) to hear. “What? Right now?” Yeosang glanced at Seonghwa. 

Hongjoong tried to peek at Seonghwa’s reaction from the corner of his eye, but he looked just as confused as Yeosang.

“Okay, okay, fine. Yeah,” Yeosang nodded, “Yes, I promise we’re on our way. Stop whining.” He hung up and set his phone face down on the table as if whoever called would hear him otherwise. “Wooyoung’s back in town,” he announced.

“I thought his job wouldn’t let him off,” Seonghwa said.

“Apparently, he pulled some strings.” Yeosang put his head in his hands.

“Am I missing something?” Mingi questioned, voicing Hongjoong’s thoughts.

“Sorry,” Yeosang’s expression softened, “He’s an old friend, dropped in to celebrate my birthday.”

“Oh?” Jongho brightened. “We can all meet up. I mean… if you don’t mind,” he stammered.

Yeosang raised a doubtful brow. “He’s at a club. Woo’s a… partier.” He and Seonghwa made eye contact again. 

“I don’t mind. It’s your birthday,” Jongho said. “We should go all out.” He looked around at the table. Everyone nodded, excited but not wanting to impose. 

Seonghwa placed his chin in his palm, smirking. “Remember you all agreed to this.”

And that’s how they ended up at Club Spectrum, a high end joint that Hongjoong never thought he’d find himself in. 

“Relax,” came a whisper in his ear and a finger down his spine. He sucked in a breath and turned to swat Seonghwa’s hand away. 

Seonghwa snickered and put his hands behind his back, playing innocent. 

“Why are all your friends so fancy?” Hongjoong muttered, as they walked over to a table where two men were waving their arms at their group with kilowatt, million dollar smiles.

Seonghwa tapped his chin. “I guess I never noticed. Woo works in advertising and he’s well off but he’s more—”

“Yeosang, get your pretty ass over here! I missed you!” The one with wet blond hair and smoky eyes practically screamed, running over to Yeosang and lifting him from the ground in a suffocating hug. 

“Missed you… too,” Yeosang choked out. “Can you let me go though?”

Hongjoong hung back with Seonghwa while he watched the whole exchange. “Friends since the womb practically,” Seonghwa filled in. “And that’s Wooyoung’s boyfriend, San.” He nodded toward the other slim man with a white streak in his fluffy black hair. 

“Ah,” Hongjoong followed along.

Yeosang gestured toward Jongho who rubbed the back of his neck, likely nervous from the sudden meeting. Wooyoung took Jongho by the shoulders, expression stern. He only spoke for about a minute before Yeosang interjected and dragged Jongho away to the bar. Yunho and Mingi exchange pleasantries with Wooyoung and San, then headed to the dance floor. That left Seonghwa and Hongjoong.

The wicked expression that came over Wooyoung as he set his sights on them made Hongjoong stiffen. He marched over and Seonghwa groaned. 

“Hey bitch,” Wooyoung greeted, crossing his arms, cocking his hip, and eyeing Seonghwa up and down. “You don’t look as depressed anymore.” Like a sniper, he glanced at Hongjoong then pinned Seonghwa with a look. “You’re fucking the little one, aren’t you?”

“We are literally the same height,” Hongjoong stated, focused on addressing the important issues.

“Shouldn’t you be making out with your boyfriend somewhere?” Seonghwa retorted.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” Wooyoung leaned in, eyes teasing and predatory. “Sorry, we’re not looking for a third right now. There are enough bottoms in this relationship anyway.”

Seonghwa narrowed his eyes and Hongjoong had two thoughts: 1) Seonghwa looked like he really wanted to stab Wooyoung and 2) The offense Seonghwa tried to bury under indifference was… interesting. 

Wooyoung straightened and threw his head back, shrieking with laughter. Looking between Hongjoong and Seonghwa one more time, he turned and skipped away.

“Is he always like that?” Hongjoong asked, stunned.

“Somehow, yes.” 

Hongjoong shifted from foot to foot, suddenly antsy. All of their friends had either gone to the bar or the dance floor and he didn’t really want to linger on how quick Wooyoung was able to notice Hongjoong and Seonghwa’s situationship. He realized he didn’t have to wait for Seonghwa, because they were, in fact, not together, so he made his way to the bar, took two more shots of soju and shimmied onto the dance floor.

He embraced the alcohol warming him from the inside and the melodic collision of bodies. For a fancy bar, the set wasn’t half bad. The deep house beat and heavy bass pulsed through the floor. Hot pink, electric blue, and bright purple struck like hazy lightning, illuminating everyone in flashes so he could only get a brief look at the strangers surrounding him. He was short of breath; it made him dizzy and light and loose as he swayed with the crowd. 

Hongjoong supposed he should find his friends but he needed to lose himself for a moment, to drown his mind in noise and just be in his body. He wasn’t peeking over heads for raven hair and radiantly dark eyes. And he most definitely wasn’t rolling his hips, running his fingers through his hair, and biting his lip just in case those eyes spotted him. He felt feverish, as if, despite his best efforts, his body was screaming  _ Come find me _ . 

Hands gripped his waist and spun him around and Hongjoong came face to face with Seonghwa. His eyes were blown and unhinged and something close to fear but closer to adrenaline shot through Hongjoong. Hongjoong felt stripped naked right there on the dance floor under his eyes. 

The track flipped to something smooth and velvety like black coffee spiked with whiskey. 

Seonghwa pulled Hongjoong flush against him, until Hongjoong was practically grinding his thigh. Hongjoong draped his arms over Seonghwa’s shoulder, falling easily into the deep sway, already hard and tense and trembling like a new rubber band. 

Seonghwa bent low to place barely there kisses along Hongjoong’s jawline.

“Is- is it true?” Hongjoong asked before he moaned in public. Sure, everyone was drunk and distracted, but that wasn’t the point.

“Is what true?” Seonghwa whispered, then licked Hongjoong’s earlobe. 

Hongjoong sighed. “That you’ve bottomed?”

Seonghwa hummed. It was neither assent nor dissent; it was simply an acknowledgement of the question. 

Hongjoong pulled back to look at Seonghwa whose gaze was focused solely on his lips. 

“I’d take care of you,” Hongjoong blurted, feeling his brain to mouth filter completely disconnect.

Seonghwa’s eyes widened, finally meeting Hongjoong’s. 

“Like you wanted that first night,” Hongjoong continued. He bit his tongue before he said anything else that should be a conversation anywhere but at a nightclub.

“Let’s just dance,” Seonghwa said.

So they did. Hongjoong let Seonghwa turn him around and rock them back and forth without another word. He focused on the music and the way Seonghwa’s body encased his own, pretended the drums were his heart so he didn’t feel the pain of it beating. 

Eventually Wooyoung found them, raising two glasses with suspiciously dark liquid in his hands. “Drink up, baby. You’re behind.” Instead of handing one to Seonghwa and the other to Hongjoong, like Hongjoong thought he would, he handed both drinks to Seonghwa. 

Seonghwa sipped and his face twisted up. “What the hell is this?”

“I just had an American client,” Wooyoung explained, grinning. “Sent it as a gift. They call it Hennesy.” He let the word roll off his tongue like a sharp, smooth cursive. 

Seonghwa took another sip, but Wooyoung held the glass up to make him swallow the whole thing in two gulps. Seonghwa coughed when he was finished, scowling at Wooyoung who looked like he did not have “sorry” in his vocabulary. He took a step back and swallowed the second drink, swiping it away when Wooyoung went to hold it up again. He handed both glasses back, sticking his tongue out to alleviate the strong taste.

Wooyoung winked and disappeared into the crowd again, yelling for Yeosang. 

“How do you feel?” Hongjoong asked, genuinely curious.

Seonghwa smacked his lips. “I don’t know. Hot, I guess?” He tilted his head, then nodded, as if settling on that conclusion.

Before Hongjoong saw it coming, the rest of the night started rolling over itself. Seonghwa got… giggly. Somehow, they drifted and rejoined the group, or rather they were easy to find when they spotted Yunho and Mingi doing a sloppy pole routine on one of the platforms, while Yeosang kept throwing the same twenty dollar bill at them from his perch on Jongho’s back. On the platform to their left, Wooyoung and San were performing a sexy interpretive dance like they were competing in some unspoken contest. 

At some point, Hongjoong ordered another drink and was nursing a cocktail while he laughed his ass off at his friends. Seonghwa giggled behind his hand, so close to Hongjoong he could feel his shoulders bouncing. 

“Get up here,” Wooyoung demanded when he noticed Seonghwa.

Seonghwa waved his hands in front of him. “N- no,” he hiccuped, “absolutely not.”

The music petered out and the DJ’s voice boomed over the speaker, interrupting Wooyoung’s retort. “It’s that time,” he howled into the mic, “K. POP. HOUR.” Some of the still sober club goers groaned and left the dance floor, while a cacophony of slurred cheers hit the ceiling. A hollowed flute sound resonated through the space, floating over them like champagne.

Wooyoung screamed, pointing at Seonghwa. “This is your song!”

Yeosang turned to him with big eyes. “Do the dance, Hwa!”

San pumped his fist in the air and shouted, “Do the dance!”

As the intro led into the first verse, Hongjoong recognized the song and gave Seonghwa a look. “You know the choreo to Gashina?”

Seonghwa stared back. “Don’t.”

“I think you should do the dance, Seonghwa,” Hongjoong agreed.

“I think you should stop talking.”

“No, I don’t think I will.” Hongjoong balled his hands into fists and chanted with the others. “Do the dance. Do the dance.” He stepped back to make room as their volume earned a little audience. 

Seonghwa’s face flushed red, visible even in the low light. His head fell, conscious of the expectant stares. When he looked back up, a scary resolve fell over him as he rolled his shoulders back.

Like a butterfly to a cork board, Seonghwa pinned Hongjoong down with that disarming gaze from earlier, like he was the only one in the club. Hongjoong swallowed, his chants fizzling out.

When the end of the pre chorus began and Seonghwa donned a playful smirk and tapped his cheeks, Hongjoong regretted encouraging this.

Seonghwa snapped up, movements sharp and natural as he pointed at Hongjoong and moved his neck. He pointed to the ceiling then ran his two fingers down the center of his body, eyes low and dripping in syrupy seduction. Powerless, Hongjoong followed every movement, shifting his weight and hoping the dark covered the tent in his pants. 

This was another Seonghwa Hongjoong apparently couldn’t handle. There was something so… fatal about the way his smoky eyes focused like a snake’s and his full, glossy lips hung slightly parted. It was then he wondered how Seonghwa looked while he was figure skating, how the sheer, glittering costumes hugged his slim torso and narrow waist, how he’d look with his legs spr— 

Snapping out of his daze, he registered the crowd cheering and Seonghwa walking over to him, smiling wide and relaxed like he didn’t just make Hongjoong short-circuit. Seonghwa leaned down to Hongjoong’s ear. “Happy now?” he asked.

“Want you,” Hongjoong answered, breathless but commanding. “Now.” 

The best part about the fancy nightclub so far was its immaculately clean bathroom. They stumbled in and as much as Hongjoong was losing his mind with the messy way Seonghwa was kissing him, he pushed him away, locked the door and fell against it, catching his breath.

Seonghwa stared, expression smug. “That easy?” He pointed his chin toward Hongjoong’s pants.

Hongjoong glared, then raised his head. He took careful, measured steps toward Seonghwa until he stood right in front of him; even though Hongjoong had to look up, the cockiness melted from Seonghwa’s face. 

“What?” Seonghwa mumbled.

Hongjoong shook his head. “Nothing.” He didn’t have to ask again. When he drew Seonghwa down for a slow, prodding kiss, he had the answer Seonghwa avoided giving him earlier. No one danced like that and didn’t enjoy receiving from time to time. The realization made a rare hunger boil in Hongjoong’s gut. 

When he started rubbing their dicks together, Seonghwa gasped into his mouth. Maintaining the kiss, Hongjoong used one hand to unbutton and unzip Seonghwa’s pants. Once he pulled him out of his underwear, he did the same to himself. He rolled his hips, the direct contact making both of them whine. 

Hongjoong walked Seonghwa until his back was against the wall, dizzied and convinced no alcohol was stronger than Seonghwa’s kiss. 

Seonghwa reached down, but Hongjoong took his wrists and pinned them on the wall by his head. “Ju- just like this,” Hongjoong spoke into the skin of his collarbone. He rubbed against him in agonizingly slow circular motions. 

Seonghwa threw his head back, hitting the wall. He bit his lip, swallowing a curse.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” he taunted, squeezing Seonghwa’s wrists. When he didn’t answer, Hongjoong rolled his hips again, reveling in the rough yet sloppy feeling. “Tell the truth… for once.” Hongjoong tried to hide the way his voice cracked as the last two words slipped out without permission. The words were brittle and probably the closest thing to honesty they’d shared since that first night.

Seonghwa’s chest rose and fell. He gave one nod.

“Words,” Hongjoong prompted, pulling away. 

“Y- yes.” He hiccuped and dropped his gaze.

Hongjoong kissed his neck, hoping to ease the pain of every word stuck in his throat. He knew,  _ God, he knew  _ how hard it was to admit, but this dynamic was clearly doing something to the both of them. So, he did the work for them both, rubbing up and down Seonghwa’s length, biting and sucking violet bruises into his neck, tightening his grip around his wrists whenever he got too fidgety. 

He chased the pleasure like they were starving, like he was Seonghwa’s only source for relief. He moved with purpose: to satisfy, to unravel. 

Seonghwa shuddered, voice raw and weak. The way he pulsed against Hongjoong as he shot his load made Hongjoong cum with a cry not too long after. They must’ve been a sight—desperate, reckless, hurried, like a couple of honeymooning teenagers.

But they weren’t teenagers and this was far from a honeymoon.

They met eyes for a moment. Hongjoong felt like he was suffocating, breath suspended by Seonghwa’s round, vulnerable, terrified eyes. He let go of Seonghwa’s wrists, stepped away. 

Hongjoong went to the sink, grabbed a few paper towels, wet them under the faucet, and cleaned himself up as best he could. He grabbed a few more and handed them to Seonghwa. “We should probably get back out there before they get suspicious,” Hongjoong joked, but his tone wasn’t all too convincing. He pumped a few puffs of soap and washed his hands.

“I think it’s a little late for that,” Seonghwa countered.

Hongjoong flicked the excess water from his hands, took more paper towels and used them to turn the faucet off. “You’re probably right.” After wadding up the paper towels and tossing them into the trash, he went to the door and unlocked it. It was a wonder no one had knocked or tried to get in. 

“Joo- Hongjoong,” Seonghwa called.

Hongjoong bristled at the almost-nickname, but didn’t turn around. He gripped the door handle so he wouldn’t turn around. “Hm?”

“It’s… nothing. It’s nothing.”

“Okay, I think I’m… I think I’m gonna head out, not feeling the best.”

“Okay.”

Hongjoong left the bathroom, wished Yeosang a happy birthday, and caught a taxi home.

As soon as he got back to his apartment, he toed his shoes off, went straight to his room to grab an oversize tee and boxers, then hopped in the shower. He stood under the hot stream, let the water wash over him, imagined it washing all of the heavy feelings in his chest down the drain. He thought he’d cry, but everything in him was too complicated, too tangled, too clogged up to come out. Running his hands down his face then pushing his wet hair back, Hongjoong exhaled as best he could. 

Once he got out and changed into his pjs, he dug around under his bed and in his closet for the possible remedy. He needed to get his mind off of things, whatever “things” entailed (everything, if he was being honest). While he mostly favored his trusty lyric journal, words were too slippery to grasp in the moment. He didn’t feel like grasping whatever these feelings were. He just wanted to throw them onto a canvas and detach.

Hongjoong dropped his painting supplies off in the living room, then filled a mason jar with water from the kitchen sink. Popping a squat on the floor, he set his canvas up against the coffee table and began squirting acrylic paint from the near empty tubes onto a paper plate. 

He lost himself in the broad strokes of bright cherry reds and rich cobalts that faded into one another to create a vivid purple. It was a simple gradient wash, but Hongjoong indulged in smoothing the transitions between each hue.

It was probably going on three in the morning. He wasn’t sure since he left his phone in his bedroom and didn’t believe in buying clocks since he had a phone. Whatever the exact hour, the fact remained it was early, way too early to be hearing a knock at the door.

Hongjoong paused, waited, wondering if whoever it was simply had the wrong apartment number. 

Another knock.

Hongjoong set his palette and brush on the floor, then went to peek through the peephole.

Seonghwa stood on the other side, big, soft eyes exaggerated by the fisheye lens.

Hongjoong opened the door. “What are you doing here?” he asked, none of the irritation he wanted to feel making it into his tone.

Seonghwa swayed, grabbed onto the wall for balance, hiccuped, grimaced at his hiccup. Wooyoung must’ve poured another round. “Yeosang kicked me out.” Seonghwa pouted. “Said he’s gonna…” another hiccup, “fuck Jongho ‘till he can’t walk.”

“Okay, okay,” Hongjoong waved his hands to put a lid on any graphic details Seonghwa might’ve shared next. “So, what? Are you trying to stay here?”

“I’ll be good,” Seonghwa whined, clasping his hands in front of him. “Won’t even know I’m here, promise.”

It pained Hongjoong, who was planning to paint his angst and wallow, that he couldn’t bring himself to be angry at Seonghwa. No matter how much easier it would be. No, he simply sighed and opened the door wider, letting his very drunk friend waddle into his apartment and crash on his couch.

Hongjoong started picking up his painting supplies.

“Were you painting?” Seonghwa popped his head up like a meerkat. “Keep painting, don’t let me interrupt. Not even here, I’m not even here.” He let his head fall to the cushion with a thud as if trying to blend in as promised.

Hongjoong ran a hand through his hair, watching Seonghwa close his eyes and draw his knees to his chest.  _ How the hell did he get here?  _

After a long moment of fighting with himself, Hongjoong finally sat back down and took up his paintbrush again. He painted to the gentle sound of Seonghwa’s steady breathing, resting against the couch every so often to relax his back and see a full view of the painting.

Once the background was completed, he picked a clean, thin-bristle brush and dipped it in the black paint. He dragged the brush across the canvas to create loose geometric shapes, overlapping some, placing others in a corner alone.

"This is nice," Seonghwa said. "Why don't we ever do this?"

Hongjoong flinched, making one square a bit more wonky than the others. He dipped his brush in the paint again. "Because you never stay," he answered, voice barely above a whisper.

"You never ask me to." 

Hongjoong froze. When he came back to himself, a large black splotch was in the middle of the piece. He kept facing forward even though his skin buzzed from the feeling of Seonghwa’s eyes on his back. 

Seonghwa groaned dramatically. The sound of the couch shifting signaled him turning over. “I’m gonna kill Wooyoung,” he mumbled. “My head.”

Hongjoong went back to painting. His eyes burned but it wasn’t from the paint. Seonghwa lied on the couch right behind him but he’d never felt so distant from him. Every word they’d said to each other felt lost in translation. 

All Hongjoong had to do was ask—what they were, what they could be. His past relationships, if they could even be called that, loomed over him. Despite how much he teased and joked and flirted, Hongjoong, at his core, felt everything quickly and deeply. Time and again, though, he found himself alone in this. The few times he was brave enough to confess he was written off as intense, clingy, obsessed. 

He couldn’t help it. He approached everything with the same passion. His desire to be fucked against a wall was just as strong as his desire to hold hands, to cuddle, to be listened to. 

Hongjoong wasn’t quite ready to be alone again, so he ignored the way his chest constricted and kept painting. He tried his best not to replay and overanalyze the moments Seonghwa broke character as “Fuck Buddy #1,” the moments he looked at Hongjoong like he had so much to say. 

Soon, Hongjoong decided to be done with the piece and go to bed. He turned to tell Seonghwa, but he was fast asleep, curled in on himself, mouth hanging open. Hongjoong cleaned up as quiet as he could, propped the canvas against the wall to dry. After only a moment’s hesitation, he chose to be a decent human being and threw a blanket over Seonghwa. He also set a glass of water and painkillers on the coffee table. 

Hongjoong stood by the couch. It was the first time he’d seen Seonghwa sleeping. His eye makeup was smudged, which would’ve been sexy had it not been for his round, blushing cheeks and messy hair; his usually sharp features looked so moldable. His purpled skin peeked out from his open collar, such a stark contrast to how soft he looked. It was odd seeing him this relaxed, this vulnerable.

Seonghwa flinched, scrunching his nose.

Hongjoong jumped; he walked away before Seonghwa woke up and caught him being creepy. 

After wrapping himself air tight in his comforter, Hongjoong begged for a silent black sleep, a sleep where he could wake up and forget the chaotic, overflowing cauldron of emotions he cycled through tonight. As he turned over, he felt his pillow wet from the tears that finally started falling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gettin a bit angsty, innit? Anywho, I'm here to promote the Seonghwa bottom agenda and this felt like the perfect opportunity :) Also, I promise that we'll see more of Seonghwa actually doing the whole figure skating thing lol All in due time.
> 
> On another note, I'm really blown away by all the love. I really wasn't expecting it, so thank you so much for following this story. I'm having a lot of fun and am glad y'all are enjoying as much as I am. It makes it 10x more satisfying. 
> 
> As always, let me know what you think in the comments and see you in the next chapter! 
> 
> Side note: I have a working playlist for this fic. Would y'all be interested in me sharing that?
> 
> EDIT: Here's the playlist https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3aq091PJnD4vtEsB2H8zX1?si=EOT-E_8eT9SMtCmdAcozwA  
> (If you listen to it in order it progresses the same way their relationship does.)


	4. Pitiful Predictions and other Pointless Hobbies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T_T Thanks for waiting so patiently. Please enjoy.

Hongjoong rolled over sometime after the sun rose and checked his phone. There was a message from Yunho, asking if he wanted to grab lunch on Monday. All that registered was the offer of free food (Yunho always paid no matter how much Hongjoong argued). He lazily dragged his thumb across the keyboard to reply with a half-asleep ‘sure.’

The sound of footsteps across linoleum filtered from the kitchen to his bedroom. Hongjoong tensed. He turned over and stared at his closed door. The noise of activity continued. 

Slowly, quietly, he got up from his bed, grabbed an umbrella from his closet, and cracked the door open. He peeked through the crack, brandishing his makeshift weapon, then saw Seonghwa go from the kitchen back to the living room. Hongjoong’s shoulders relaxed, tension draining from his spine, as he remembered why Seonghwa was at his apartment. He hadn’t looked at the time but it couldn’t have been too late in the morning.

It was a little hard to see, but Hongjoong caught the edge of Seonghwa folding the blanket he’d thrown over him the night before. Hongjoong felt unsteady, like a guest in his own house. He didn’t know if he should go out there, what he’d say if he did, what there was  _ to  _ say. So, he stayed behind his bedroom door, as Seonghwa passed by the hall entrance, out of Hongjoong’s sight.

The sound of the door opening and closing made Hongjoong sigh a breath that exhausted him with the way it deflated his body. 

Hongjoong’s phone vibrated twice on the night table. He crawled on his knees across the bed to pick it up.

**Seonghwa:**

**Thanks**

**For letting me stay over**

Hongjoong stared at his phone and wondered how much of last night Seonghwa remembered. Hongjoong decided to stuff what he remembered (everything) into the box labeled “Complicated Shit” he kept tucked away in the furthest corner of his mind.

**Hongjoong:**

**yeah no problem**

To avoid the temptation of going through that box, Hongjoong spent the rest of his weekend cleaning. A rare sight, sure, but not unheard of. His apartment felt weird after having Seonghwa over. Of course, Seonghwa had been over plenty of times before but the lights were always off and they always entered on a direct speed route to the bedroom. Now, Seonghwa had seen his living room, his kitchen, maybe he’d even used the bathroom before Hongjoong woke up.

Hongjoong cleaned to get to know his space as his own again. He wasn’t sure how long before it would be just him in it. After last night, it felt like time was ticking for him and Seonghwa. It was only a matter of when Seonghwa would notice Hongjoong’s hopeless pining and make his exit. 

Any sane person would say that it’s pointless to prepare for heartbreak, but goddammit Hongjoong was good at trying. There was the complication of their friends dating, but Hongjoong would handle that when it needed to be handled. 

When he thought of Seonghwa’s friends, he thought of Wooyoung—his comment about how Seonghwa not looking depressed was somehow linked to him fucking Hongjoong. Hongjoong didn’t know whether to feel endeared or used. Seonghwa didn’t do much to assure him of one or the other. And that’s what unsettled the pit of Hongjoong’s stomach, like a dark miasma gurgling and swirling. 

He didn’t want to think of Seonghwa as selfish. At least, that’s what he’d admit out loud. Alone in the dark, however, he really didn’t want to think of himself as foolish. 

Hongjoong felt like he was stuck on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, after passing a gas station, thinking he could make it to wherever he was going on less than a quarter tank. He had ignored the blinking warning symbols on the dashboard. 

-

When Monday rolled around he’d forgotten all about agreeing to get lunch with Yunho. After rushing to the barbecue place down the street from KQ and seeing the smile on Yunho’s face, Hongjoong wished he’d been fully awake before agreeing to this lunch. 

Yunho was always smiling and to the untrained eye, one would think that meant he was always happy. Hongjoong knew him since they were kids; Hongjoong knew better. The grin that barely pulled at the corners of his mouth was pitying at best and disappointed at worst. If Hongjoong was more of a coward, he’d turn around and walk out of the restaurant.

He kept walking until he reached the table, gave a half-wave as he slid into the booth. 

“How’s work today?” Yunho asked.

“Slow. Eden-hyung said we’re supposed to hear from the company I produced that jingle for today.”

“Oh that’s exciting. You nervous?”

Hongjoong shook his head. “No. They really liked my last draft so it’s just a matter of getting that official yes.” Despite the true reason for this lunch hanging overhead, Hongjoong couldn’t help the way the anticipation fizzed under his skin. He had other projects in the works but this was the first one since starting his internship that had a good chance of panning out. It would be his first published song—a jingle for a drink commercial but an official song with his name on it all the same. The worst part was the waiting.

The waiter dropped off their side dishes and turned their stove top on. 

“This weekend was wild.” Yunho laughed, but Hongjoong heard right through the hollow sound. 

Hongjoong sighed, picked at his rice with his chopsticks. “Go ahead, Yun. Ask.”

Yunho stopped laughing, the sound cut short as if with a butcher’s cleaver. As the tips of his ears reddened, the low din of the restaurant filled the silence between them. “I’m just worried,” he muttered. He picked up his chopsticks and bowl of kimchi, stirred it around but didn’t take a bite.

“You’re always worried about me.”

“It’s kinda my job.”

“No,” Hongjoong pointed his chopsticks at Yunho, “that’s my mom’s job.”

Yunho exhaled an exhausted snicker. “Really, Hong, you’re my best friend. I just don’t want to see you hurt.”

“You still didn’t ask your question,” Hongjoong noted. 

Yunho looked up, tilted his head as if trying to gauge how angry Hongjoong was before proceeding.

Hongjoong wasn’t angry, just guarded. Sure, he had a history of biting Yunho’s head off whenever he confronted Hongjoong about his relationships, but that was only because Yunho said out loud what Hongjoong would try so hard to ignore. Agreeing with Yunho would be acknowledging how close the end was, how weak his grip despite how tight his fist.

The waiter brought their meat to the table and left without a word, no doubt picking up on the jagged energy. 

“What are you and Seonghwa?”

“Friends with benefits,” Hongjoong answered easily.

“You’re okay with that?”

Hongjoong shrugged. “Yeah,” he said, following up with a squeaky “duh” snort. He picked up a slice of beef, placed it on the grill, grateful to focus on something other than Yunho’s incisive stare. He felt like that piece of meat, sizzling and shriveling up by the heat of the grill. 

“Hongjoong,” Yunho called, tone firm but still cautious. “It’s okay if you like him, you know?”

“That sounds childish. I’m not a child.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“What is  _ that  _ supposed to mean?”

Yunho only raised an accusatory brow. 

“No, say it,” Hongjoong prompted, putting his chopsticks down, “since you know me so well.”

“I know you but—”

“But nothing. You may have known me the longest but you don’t know what it’s like for me.” Hongjoong crossed his arms. He hated the way his chest tightened, the way his hands trembled. He hated how his words gushed out, but it was like popping the tab on a shaken up soda can. “You think you do, but you’ve been in a perfect relationship for five years now. The love thing’s always come easy to you.”

“It’s not perf—”

“Meanwhile I can’t keep someone around for more than a couple months. You must really feel bad for me,” Hongjoong sneered. “Just let me have this, okay? I’ll cry when he leaves and be done with it, move on,” he ignored the break in his voice that came with admitting that aloud. “Whatever, it’s whatever. Not like I haven’t done this before.”

“Yeah, but aren’t you tired?”

Hongjoong’s chest felt like it was stuffed with a thick, hot lightning cloud. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fucking tired,” he mumbled, “but not all of us get the happy ending.” 

There were many late nights, especially after hookups, spent thinking that maybe short trysts of passion were his lot in life, that no one would ever put up with him long-term. So, Hongjoong took what he could get. He took until they stopped giving. 

But he felt things about Seonghwa he hadn’t allowed himself to feel so intensely before. An odd kinship that neither wanted the other to see, but brief, orphic flashes still peeked through. Flashes that felt familiar and validating and relieving. Flashes that made Hongjoong feel like they were two people so used to being alone they clung to that solitude even when with each other, especially with each other. In trying to understand Seonghwa, he understood more about himself. 

And it hurt.

Hongjoong suppressed what he was feeling so much that it was hidden even from himself. As he unwillingly vented to Yunho, every confession surprised him as much as it saddened Yunho. 

“Hongjoong, you deserve someone that makes you happy.” Yunho’s eyes were glassy wet, despite all his determination to confront a stubborn Hongjoong. 

“Just because I deserve something doesn’t mean I’ll get it.”

“That’s not what—”

“Wait, Eden-hyung’s calling.” Hongjoong dug for his vibrating phone in his deep jacket pocket.

“No, stop trying to get out of this,” Yunho said, frustration bleeding through.

Finally pulling the phone out, Hongjoong shoved it in his face, showing him the caller ID. 

Yunho straightened; his eyes narrowed, skeptical of the well-timed phone call. 

Hongjoong ignored him and answered, sliding out of the booth and heading toward the exit. “Hello?”

“Hey, just got the call from the client.”

Hongjoong froze by the door. “And?” 

“They’re going with another candidate.”

“Huh?”

There was the sound of keyboard clicking. Eden’s voice was distant, like he was busy and balancing his phone between his ear and shoulder. “Yeah, they got a freelance submission they thought fit the vibe better, but no worries. We’ll start reaching out to other clients.”

“R- right, yeah,”

“Stuff like this happens all the time, can’t be helped.”

Hongjoong knew Eden was trying to soften the blow. Hongjoong knew he was right, but… the timing. What Eden attempted to convince him to be a small hiccup felt like the final knockout. His mouth dried, a headache lurked around the corner. He felt like he was standing in the middle of a high traffic freeway while customers passed in and out of the door beside him.

“Hongjoong?”

“I’m sorry, huh?”

“You can take the rest of the day off.”

“What? No,” he pressed, “I- I was working on the song for—”

“Go home. We’ll start fresh tomorrow. Okay?”

Hongjoong opened his mouth to argue again, but all that came out was a weak, “Okay.” After a curt goodbye, he ended the call, walked back over to his table. “I’m, uh, I’m gonna head home.”

“What happened?” Yunho asked, eyes round as marbles and full of concern.

“Company went with someone else,” Hongjoong muttered, distrustful of his voice, hyper-aware of the tears waiting in the wings.

“Oh, Hong.” Yunho moved to stand, arms already reaching out to encircle Hongjoong, but Hongjoong stepped away.

He shook his head. “I’m good.” They both knew that was the boldest lie of the day, but they also knew that if Yunho hugged him he would break down in the middle of the restaurant; he had enough to worry about without adding public embarrassment to the list. “I’m just… gonna head home.”

By some miracle, despite the teary eyes and shaking hands, Hongjoong made it home. He heard his phone go off again while he was driving, so he checked it once he got in. Seonghwa had sent him a video of a plump-cheeked baby refusing to eat her mashed carrots, instead rubbing them into her hair with pudgy hands. 

His fingers moved of their own volition, before he had a chance to talk himself out of it.

**Hongjoong:**

**you should come over**

A few minutes passed without a reply. Hongjoong decided to change and put on a movie before the radio silence made him spiral further. While he lied on his stomach, cheek pressed to the cool leather, he tried his best to focus on the comedy, but his sour mood wouldn’t let him enjoy any of the jokes. 

His phone sat face down on the coffee table so he wouldn’t check it every five seconds. 

This had gotten out of hand and now he was paying for it. He didn’t even have the energy to masturbate as a way of distracting himself. That was just asking to make things worse; he knew his mind would immediately jump to Seonghwa for fantasy material.

When the tears started, they didn’t stop. Like a pipe close to bursting, his chest rattled and the leak spilled from his eyes. He sniffled, exhaled a hoarse whimper, sobbed. Hongjoong buried his face in the couch cushion and cried until he exhausted his small body. The headache was prominent and taxing. Too spent to do much else, he dropped into a deep sleep.

-

Heavy knocking jolted Hongjoong awake. His body ached with being jerked to consciousness so suddenly. He groaned, wiped the spot of drool from the corner of his mouth. Standing on sand-heavy legs, he ambled over to open the door.

Hongjoong’s already closed throat, twisted in on itself at seeing Seonghwa in his doorway. 

He was typing something on his phone, as he said, “You know, it’s actually good you—” When he looked up, his cheeky demeanor slipped away like a silk curtain. “You okay?”

“Look,” Hongjoong cleared his throat to rid his voice of its brittleness, “sorry you came all this way but I’m not really in the mood anymore.” He rubbed the sole of his right foot across the cold tile, focused his gaze there instead of Seonghwa’s confusion.

“I… I would’ve come sooner, but I had lessons.”

“Right, forgot about that. You’re probably tired, so you can go. Sorry.”

“Have you been crying?”

Hongjoong winced at how hesitant and concerned he sounded. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, hands balling into fists, more to ground himself than to threaten. “Yeah, so you can imagine how not in the mood to fuck I am right now.”

“I didn’t think… That’s not why I…” he faltered. “We don’t have to do just  _ that _ …every time we see each other.”

Hongjoong looked up, leery of his own ears. 

Seonghwa tangled his fingers together, eyes open like that night in the club bathroom. 

“Seonghwa, I don’t think I can.”

“What do you mean?”

What did he mean? He didn’t know, because he was still trying to decipher whatever Seonghwa meant, what it could imply. He didn’t have the energy for this. Hongjoong wish it were as easy as just letting him in, letting Seonghwa hold him like he look like he wanted. But he wouldn’t be able to handle it if he were rejected now or even later.

“You should just go,” Hongjoong said.

“Did I do something?”

“No.”

“Did something happen?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

“Why? Why do you care all of a sudden?” By now they were on the edge of yelling, both reaching the end of some worn, frayed rope. 

“For christ’s sake Hongjoong,” he huffed, “I  _ am _ a decent human being.”

Hongjoong crossed his arms. “Well aren’t I lucky?”

“Will you stop that?”

“Stop what?”   
  


“That!” Seonghwa threw his hands out, riled up. “The sarcasm.”

“This is just how I am.”

“No, it’s not, not all the time. You’re deflecting.”

“You’re one to fucking talk. You can’t even admit out loud that you like to bottom.”

“Don’t turn this on me.”

“Why not? I’m just confused why I’m getting called out when you can’t be honest either.”

“Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

They stared each other down. Two immovable objects, two magnets that somehow got flipped to their same poles, repelling each other. 

“Just go.”

Seonghwa’s shoulders tensed; distress pinched his brow. After searching for some unknown thing in Hongjoong’s eyes, his jaw clenched. “Fine.”

Hongjoong started closing the door, but Seonghwa stopped it, smacking his hand against it.

“What are you doing?” Hongjoong gripped the door with both hands, prepared to slam fingers if he had to.

“I’ll leave, but only after we go grocery shopping.”

“What?”

“You’d think nobody lived here with how empty your cabinets are.”

“You went through my kitchen?”

Seonghwa’s eyes shifted to the left. “O- only because you’re only ever eating takeout when I ask what you’re having for dinner.”

“Seonghwa—”

“I’ll be out of town for a week, so I didn’t want—”

“I’m fine. I’ll be fine. I don’t need—”

“Jesus, Hongjoong, will you just let me help you? What is so hard about that?”

Hongjoong’s mouth shut, taken aback by the power and distress in Seonghwa’s voice. 

Seonghwa sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell.”

“It’s… fine. I’ll, uh, I’ll go get my keys.”

-

Which is how they ended up at the grocery store, Hongjoong silently pushing the cart and Seonghwa picking up various produce, meat, and bread, asking Hongjoong every once in a while if he preferred certain sauces over others or if he was allergic to something. 

Hongjoong, drowning in his oversized pink comfort hoodie, would only nod or hum in response. Truth be told, he was too embarrassed to speak or even look Seonghwa in the eye. With the argument on loop in his head, he wanted to bury himself alive for how he must’ve looked from Seonghwa’s perspective. No matter how complicated the benefits part was, they were still friends to a certain degree. 

Yes, Hongjoong knew he should apologize and explain himself. Yes, Hongjoong knew he was being a brat by not doing either of those, instead pouting under his hood. He needed time.

“Honey?”

Hongjoong stopped the cart just before crashing into a pyramid display of jarred honey.

Seonghwa held one up, eyebrows raised, waiting for an answer to a question Hongjoong was just realizing was a question.

Hongjoong blinked.

“For your tea.” Seonghwa clarified. “Don’t you need to keep your throat well for recording demos?”

“Y- yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“We don’t have to get it, if you don’t want.”

“No, no, it’s fine. I just… hadn’t thought of it.” Hongjoong hated this. Someone would think they’d just met yesterday the way they were being so damn polite. He ignored the way his cheeks warmed and slumped over the shopping cart. Once Seonghwa took his deflation as a yes and placed the honey in the basket, they pushed on.

Hongjoong watched the way Seonghwa stuck the tip of his tongue out when he was focused comparing prices, got caught in the way he screwed his lips when a deal wasn’t as good as it seemed, blushed at the way he got starry-eyed when he found what he was searching for. 

Hongjoong tugged on his hood to hide his face more.

“Okay, that should be enough for a week,” Seonghwa announced more to himself than Hongjoong as he scanned the cart’s contents. 

After they checked out, the drive back was just as quiet as the drive there. They unloaded the groceries in just one trip, and Seonghwa got to work preparing each meal to store in plastic containers for Hongjoong to just microwave for dinner.

Hongjoong sat on the counter by the stove, while Seonghwa cooked. He swung his legs back and forth as he tried to distract himself on his phone. He stopped trying to question how the hell they ended up here with Seonghwa in his kitchen, peeling chestnuts and garlic cloves for Sam Gae Tang like it was his solemn duty. 

As Seonghwa stuffed his hand inside the cornish hen to remove its innards, Hongjoong asked, “Why are you going to be gone for a week?”

Seonghwa paused, as if just remembering Hongjoong was there. He tossed the bird’s organs in the trash and moved to the sink to rinse it off. “One of my kids qualified for a competition in Ulsan. We’re getting there a couple days early to practice on their rink.”

“That’s really cool,” Hongjoong said, hoping he sounded as genuinely interested as he felt.

A faint smile glowed on Seonghwa’s lips, precious and golden. “Yeah, I’m pretty proud of him. He’s improved a lot.” 

They faded back into silence, but it was more comfortable this time, like broken in shoes. 

Seonghwa stuffed the chicken with the sweet rice he’d boiled, chestnuts, and garlic. After adding the stuffed bird, ginseng roots, dates, and ginger to a soup pot he’d unearthed from the back of Hongjoong’s cabinet, he poured water over it all. 

By now, Hongjoong had abandoned his phone in favor of watching Seonghwa cook. It was relaxing. If Hongjoong didn’t think too hard he could pretend this was normal for them. He could let the robust savory scent of the soup and the oh so domestic scene of Seonghwa moving around his kitchen like he belonged there comfort him. 

Seonghwa turned the heat up on the stove and started on another dish. “I meant what I said earlier,” he said, while he chopped a sweet onion into thin slices, “but I get it, if that’s not something you want.”

Hongjoong rubbed at his watery eyes. “You said a lot of things earlier, Seonghwa.” He laughed half-heartedly, again reminded of his childishness. “Gonna have to be more specific.”

“That we don’t always have to fuck every time we see each other, but I get if that’s not what you want this to be.”

_ Oh. _

Hongjoong pressed his thumb to the center of his palm, kept swinging his legs back and forth. “Is that something  _ you  _ want this to be?” 

The steady tap of the knife against the cutting board stopped. The bubble of the soup coming to a boil filled the sonic vacancy. 

“I like when it’s just the two of us like this,” Seonghwa said. “I feel like I can see you clearer, hear you better.”

Hongjoong’s heart thumped against his chest. He looked up at the same time Seonghwa set the knife down and met his eyes. “Seonghwa, I…” His mouth moved to form shapeless words. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” he admitted.

“Neither do I.” The corner of his mouth quirked up as he exhaled a laugh through his nose. “We’ll just take it one day at a time, yeah?” He walked over to stand in front of Hongjoong. He placed both hands on the counter on either side of Hongjoong and leaned in.

Hongjoong couldn’t take a full breath without smelling Seonghwa’s tart pomegranate shampoo. He swallowed, nodded. 

Seonghwa leaned in until their lips brushed. 

Hongjoong’s eyes fluttered closed, that one touch like a needle-point tingel from the crown of his head, down his spine, to the tips of his toes. 

Seonghwa angled his head and swooped back in, covering Hongjoong’s whole mouth with his own and stealing every bit of air from his lungs. 

Hongjoong stopped thinking; he let himself be kissed like he was being dipped during a waltz.

Seonghwa jerked away, hissing. “Shit shit shit,” he cried.

Once Hongjoong dragged himself from under the sweet, thick haze, he realized the soup had boiled over and splashed onto Seonghwa’s hand, which he was now holding under the running faucet. “Are you okay?” Hongjoong asked.

Seonghwa looked embarrassed more than anything, his cheeks red as the beets in the pot.

The giggle left before he could stop it with a hand over his mouth. 

“Are you laughing at me?” Seonghwa called, clutching his hand to his chest.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” Hongjoong waved his hands in front of himself but kept laughing. 

Seonghwa narrowed his eyes. “You brat.” 

“You like it.” Hongjoong leaned back on his hands, smirking.

Seonghwa went back over to Hongjoong. It really did feel like they were seeing each other for the first time—sharp edges, defined color, committing every detail to sober memory. “Yeah,” Seonghwa kissed him on the cheek, “I do.” He kissed him on the lips and Hongjoong smiled into it, before returning his efforts tenfold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY! Back with another one. Thank you so so much for your patience. I struggled a ton with this chapter, mainly because I am writing this fic by the seat of my pants and kind of letting it lead me where it wants to go, which isn't always ideal when it comes to blocks lol Cute little fun fact, I continued this fic with Seongjoong's argument in mind, because I love writing arguments. So, it was fun finally getting to what started this journey.
> 
> Again, thank you for the continued support! Let me know what you think in the comments.
> 
> //Crash Playlist//  
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3aq091PJnD4vtEsB2H8zX1?si=uyW77xCAT_GtQeS6cGOSmw
> 
> //Twitter//  
> @angeltiny13


	5. Stumbling and Tumbling

Hongjoong stared at the message that popped into his notifications, innocent yet startling. 

**Seonghwa:**

**Do you want to hang out tonight?**

Hongjoong felt childish the way his brain spiraled out of control. Hang out? What did that mean? What would they do? For how long? Where? What if he couldn’t hold a conversation? What if they watched a movie and he fell asleep? He always fell asleep watching movies! 

So, instead of relaying all of these worries and risk scaring Seonghwa off, he replied with a simple “sure.” He chewed on his bottom lip and twisted back and forth in his studio chair as he waited for a reply. 

Seonghwa was probably in the middle of lessons by now. Hongjoong should probably get back to work too. He set the phone down and did just that. 

Once noon hit and he got the okay to go on break, he called Yunho. It had only been a day since their argument, but Hongjoong knew he could only last so long without making sure his best friend didn’t hate him. He knew he was being dramatic, but he’d also said some things that Yunho didn’t deserve. 

“Hello?” Yunho answered on the third ring and the tension evaporated from Hongjoong’s shoulders at the airy sound of his best friend’s voice.

“Yunho, hey,” he started. He dug the toe of his tennis shoe into the carpet, studying the multicolored marker doodles on the sides, secretly hoping he could communicate his apology telepathically. “I just wanted,” he began again when he conceded that pointless hope, “I just wanted to apologize, ya know, for yesterday.” He took a deep breath, slouched against the back of the chair. “I was an ass.”

“Yeah, you were.” Yunho chuckled, the sound soft yet gritty like wet sand over the phone. 

“You’re not… mad at me?”

“Oh no, I’m pissed as hell at you, hyung.”

Hongjoong straightened. 

“It’s always the same thing and yet you  _ still  _ bite my head off.” More than anything, Yunho sounded surprised. “I know I can be a little overly idealistic sometimes, but I don’t think it’s a bad thing to want my best friend to want better for themselves.”

“You’re right and I’m sorry,” Hongjoong said. “I just… get really stuck in my head sometimes, and that’s not an excuse,” he hurried to clarify, “I just need to be better about not dumping all my shittiness on you.”

“You’re not shitty. You’re just really emotionally constipated.”

“I- thanks?”

“Honestly, I don’t know how you fit all those feelings in that small body of yours. You’re like if Grumpy the dwarf was smurf-sized, like it’s really—”

“Okay, Yun, I get it.” Hongjoong pursed his lips. 

“No, but seriously, I’m the president of the Kim Hongjoong Get Your Shit Together club and I take my job very seriously.”

Hongjoong laughed and it was the first full laugh he’d had in days. “I know and I really appreciate it.” He pulled his leg up to his chest, rested his chin on his knee. “Speaking of getting my shit together,” he let his voice trail off like a stray thread on the hem of a sweater.

“Yes?” Yunho prompted, curiosity obvious judging by the buoyancy in his voice. 

“Seonghwa and I are… hanging out tonight.”

“What?”

Hongjoong pulled the phone away as Yunho yelled. When he returned it to his ear, Yunho was rattling off question after question like an auctioneer. 

“Is this a date? Are y’all dating now? What the hell happened yesterday? Hongjoong, answer me,” he demanded.

The thing was Hongjoong only knew how to answer one of those questions. “Well, I asked him to come over after I got home, ’cause I was kind of delirious. We had a fight. It wasn’t like a  _ fight  _ fight, I don’t know. I just didn’t want to tell him why I’d been crying and he kept asking, but eventually we went to the grocery store. He said he was gonna be out of town for a week and didn’t think I should be eating takeout all the time—”

“Yeah, you really shouldn’t be—”

“ _ Anyways _ , we went to the store and he cooked some meals I could heat up later. Then he said that we don’t always have to, uh,” Hongjoong’s rapid-fire storytelling slowed to an ineloquent tiptoe, “sleep together, when we’re together. We could just hang out and stuff. And I guess we’re, uh, doing that tonight.”

“So, a date?”

“Yes, no, I guess?”

“Well, what are y’all doing?”

“I don’t know. We didn’t get that far.”

Yunho sighed. “You know what? I’ll just accept these baby steps.”

“Thank you,” Hongjoong said, knowing Yunho’s audible disappointment was every bit warranted. 

“That was really domestic of Seonghwa, though. Meal prepping for you? Sounds like love to me,” Yunho sing-songed.

“Shut up.” Hongjoong dropped his forehead to his knee. Of course he’d stayed up all night replaying the earnest tone in Seonghwa’s insistence to make sure he didn’t go hungry. Of course he tried to calm the way his nerves turned to pipe cleaners, fuzzy and colorful, at how sweet and sincere Seonghwa looked at the grocery store. After so long of looking at Seonghwa and having horny be his default reaction, these softer, incorporeal feelings were so much harder to grasp. 

“Okay, well have fun and Hong,” Yunho said.

“Hm?”

“Stay out of your head, okay?”

Hongjoong took a moment to make sure he meant his next words. He exhaled. “I’ll try.”

-

After a few hours of sporadic back and forth texting, they settled on convenience store food and Kdramas. Seonghwa insisted, since Hongjoong revealed his knowledge of Kdramas didn’t extend beyond vague memories of his mom yelling, crying, and cooing at the television set. So, he said he’d give Hongjoong a crash course and show him the first episodes of different ones and see which one Hongjoong liked best and wanted to continue.

Hongjoong was still worried he’d fall asleep. Maybe if he grabbed an Americano after he got off work- No, he’d already had three cups today and Yunho made him promise he’d cap off his caffeine intake at three cups. He’d disappointed Yunho enough these last few days. 

When Hongjoong got back to his apartment, a new set of problems arose. His apartment wasn’t dirty by any means, but, for some reason, he felt the urge to dust the windowsills, wipe the baseboards, light a candle? He screwed his lips and continued to his bedroom. 

Hongjoong hung his bag on his door knob and caught sight of himself in the full length mirror attached to his sliding closet door. What the hell was he supposed to wear? Should he shower? He didn’t really do anything strenuous today. He lifted his arm and took a whiff. All he smelled was tropical paradise detergent.

Clasping his hands in front of his chest, he examined his outfit—a blue denim button up, buttoned to the top, sleeves rolled above his forearms, layers of thin gold chain and pendant necklaces, blue denim skinny jeans, slit at the knee, doodled on converses. Conclusion: not ideal for lounging on the couch.

He groaned.

Hongjoong loved clothes; he loved getting dressed, putting together outfits. Most days he just threw together what made him smile, not giving the ensemble much analytical thought, but some days nothing looked good together. Some days he felt like he had nothing to wear, despite the sizable mountain of clothes spilling from his closet and overflowing from his drawers and hamper. Some days he overthought. 

Today was one of those days.

As he tossed sweater over graphic tee behind him, he was torn between saying fuck it and wearing a hoodie and shorts and wanting to make sure the colors of those items were complimentary. Somewhere in his peripheral hearing he registered the sound of muffled vibrations. He crawled across the floor to pick his phone up from the bed.

It was Seonghwa calling. Hongjoong swallowed then answered. “Hello?”

“Hey, I’m at the store. Do you have any snacks you want?”

“Um, surprise me,” Hongjoong said.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I don’t really have a preference.”

“That’s news to me,” Seonghwa teased, snickering.

That easy. Seonghwa’s laugh, no matter how distorted by cellular static, loosened the knot in Hongjoong’s chest. “Yeah,” Hongjoong breathed, savoring the sound.

“Okay, I’ll be there in thirty.”

“Okay.”  _ Hurry.  _

Once he hung up, Hongjoong just grabbed his dusty pink hoodie and a pair of gym shorts and called it a day. 

Thirty minutes ambled by like a train interrupting rush hour traffic, but soon there was a knock at the door. Hongjoong took a breath before opening it. 

Seonghwa wore that lopsided smile of his, raised the hand that carried the groceries in an odd sort of greeting, and said, “Hey.”

“Hey.”

Look at them—trying.  _ So far so good _ , Hongjoong thought. He took note of Seonghwa’s wavy, breeze-tousled hair, his black t-shirt and loose trousers. Right, he had classes today. 

“I kind of bought a bit of everything, so you can pick what you like.” Seonghwa stepped into the apartment once Hongjoong stepped aside. “You didn’t eat dinner yet, right?” He dug through the bag and started setting the contents on the coffee table. “I grabbed some ramyeon, but if you don’t want that then I also got these egg sandwiches. Some chips, yogurt, carrot sticks, but like you can just refrigerate those if you don’t want them now.”

As he rambled, it dawned on Hongjoong that Seonghwa was probably nervous too. He stifled a laugh.

“What?” Seonghwa asked, eyes widening like he’d done something wrong. 

“Nothing. I’ll get the hot water for the ramyeon.” Hongjoong had no business laughing when he just spent a solid forty-five minutes trying to find an outfit to sit on the couch in. 

Once the ramyeon was cooked and the first drama began, they settled on opposite ends of the couch, slurping their noodles. It wasn’t long before their empty bowls sat on the coffee table; they were still on opposite ends of the couch. Hongjoong sat knees to chest, head resting on his folded arms. Seonghwa sat with his legs crossed at the ankle, chin resting in his open palm, elbow on the couch arm. 

Every now and then Hongjoong would glance to his left, checking if Seonghwa changed positions, if he was getting closer. His heart raced and he hated it. 

He could ask. 

He should just ask. 

It felt like a stupid question. Refocusing his attention on the drama though, he was reminded of his mother.  _ The only stupid question is the one you don’t ask _ , she would say.

Hongjoong coughed into his arms.

Seonghwa shifted but didn’t look away from the television.

Hongjoong repressed a sigh. He didn’t want to assume anything. Seonghwa asked to hang out. They were hanging out. Hongjoong shouldn’t expect too much at once, even if Seonghwa had already been up his ass. 

It wasn’t helping that the leads in the drama were making heart eyes at each other despite having just met only a day ago. The male lead helped the female lead’s father pay off his debt or something. Hongjoong wasn’t paying attention. 

He was trying, because Seonghwa said he liked this drama. So Hongjoong was trying to focus on that instead of how much he wanted to be nestled against Seonghwa, wrapped in his lean arms. 

He resisted the urge to pull his hood over his head and yank the strings. 

“Do you want to come closer?” Seonghwa asked.

“Come closer?” Hongjoong repeated, making sure he heard right.

“Yeah, you want to, right? It’s why you keep looking over here?”

Hongjoong sat up straight, met Seonghwa’s suspicious gaze. “That’s not why I- I mean- I didn’t-” 

Seonghwa chuckled, then grabbed the remote, paused the show. He turned to face Hongjoong. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing.” It was a reflex answer that Hongjoong instantly regretted when Seonghwa raised a skeptical brow. He ran a hand through his hair, as he felt a jumble of thoughts snowball in his throat. “I’m just a little… confused,” he said quietly.

“About?”

“How, um, how this,” he gestured between them, “is supposed to go.”

Seonghwa nodded slowly, as if prompting Hongjoong to go on.

“Like you said we’re hanging out, but is this a date? Or are we starting straight from square one and working our way up? Like first base? And what’s allowed on that base?” Hongjoong demonstrated what he meant by stacking his hands one on top of another. His shoulders dropped. “I don’t think I’m doing well,” he huffed, blowing his fringe out of his eyes, “with this whole ‘see how it goes’ thing.”

Seonghwa blinked.

Hongjoong worried he’d exploded too early. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Seonghwa rushed out. “I’m glad you’re telling me.” He sat with his legs criss-crossed, hands gripping his ankles, back straight, at full attention. 

Hongjoong squirmed a bit, surprised at Seonghwa’s genuine concern.

Seonghwa must’ve noticed because he relaxed his attentive posture. “Sorry, I just didn’t expect you to be such a…” He waved his hand around, as if to catch the right word from the air.

“Overthinker?” Hongjoong provided. He rolled his eyes playfully. “Fatal flaw, I guess.”

“You were so forward and vocal when we first met.”

“I didn’t have anything to lose then.” The words floated free from his chest like dandelion fluff and for once he didn’t try to snatch them back and stuff them down. 

Seonghwa stilled; he stared and studied Hongjoong with those dark, curious eyes. 

Hongjoong saw the promises that clenched his jaw—fragile, baseless things, reflexive reassurances. Seonghwa was nothing if not practical, less emotionally volatile than Hongjoong. Hongjoong knew the next line usually went, “You won’t lose me,” but they didn’t know each other in the ways that mattered to make such a monumental claim. At least not yet. 

Hongjoong was about to apologize for killing the mood, before Seonghwa’s eyes shifted then returned to Hongjoong with new focus. “I don’t want you to feel like that, but you gotta tell me everything,” Seonghwa said. “I want you to feel comfortable enough to tell me everything.”

“Everything?” Hongjoong squeaked, Seonghwa’s words tugging at layers and layers of carefully crafted stubbornness. 

“Yeah, just as honest as you were before.” Seonghwa pulled at his ear. “Actually, it’s one of the reasons I started liking you.”

It was Hongjoong’s turn to blink, taken aback. 

“You always let me know what you wanted. So, tell me now, what do you want?” 

Hongjoong’s heart beat big and full. Thoughts tumbled, inciting avalanches in his mind. “I… wanted to cuddle, while we watched, but now I kinda want you to kiss me.”

“Only kinda?” Seonghwa smirked.

Hongjoong nodded, a searing heat climbing up his neck. 

Seonghwa rose to his knees then crawled across the middle cushion until he was so close Hongjoong had to rest against the arm of the couch.

“W- we can still watch the drama,” Hongjoong said, then swallowed. His gaze flicked to Seonghwa’s lips, took note of how he’d barely have to lean up to brush against them.

“The drama will be there.” Seonghwa closed what little distance was left, pressing his lips to Hongjoong’s.

Hongjoong inhaled the taste of him (spicy ramyeon, mint lip balm). Before, kissing Seonghwa felt like wildfire—rushed, brash, temporary. Now, kissing Seonghwa felt like magma—heavy, all-consuming, fervid. Hongjoong felt surrounded by his magnetic heat. 

Seonghwa pressed rhythmic kisses to Hongjoong’s open mouth, drawing out small, heady breaths every time he pulled back.

Hongjoong’s patience thinned with every parting. “You’re enjoying this,” he said between pants. 

“A little.” 

Hongjoong felt Seonghwa’s sly smile against his lips. He slapped his chest but didn’t push him away. With his other hand he cupped Seonghwa’s jaw, held him still, while he angled his head and tongued Seonghwa’s mouth open.

Seonghwa huffed a moan.

“Only a little?” Hongjoong asked. 

Seonghwa hummed, licking the roof of Hongjoong’s mouth while his fingers glided across the exposed skin of his stomach. He peppered a trail of wet kisses across Hongjoong’s chin, jaw, neck, the hollow of his throat. With his thumb, he massaged deep circles into Hongjoong’s hip. 

It was so little yet so much. Hongjoong tried his best not to squirm. He dug his fingers and toes into the couch, as Seonghwa suckled on his Adam's apple. 

“I’m curious,” Seonghwa said, voice thick, sticky, quiet.

“Y- yeah, what about?” His attention was split between the scattered conversation and Seonghwa’s teasing fingers dipping below the waistband of his shorts.

“Everything.” That one word sounded like the plea of a starving man. “What turns you on, what makes you needy, desperate. What makes you laugh.”

A clipped spark shot across his skin at Seonghwa’s last admission. That was a different type of intimacy. “I bet you are,” Hongjoong quipped. 

The heavy breathing, the closeness, the boiling tension intensified the summer evening heat that spilled through the seams of the windows. It all made him dizzy and he needed pressure quick or else he felt like he’d float away.

Yes, his heart pounded from the cloying desire rolling in his gut, but it also tripped over Seonghwa’s offer of pleasure catered especially for him. It turned him on in ways that terrified him.

He kicked his hips up, hoping Seonghwa would catch the message and he wouldn’t have to speak. He didn’t trust his voice at the moment.

Seonghwa chuckled, a dark, sugarless sound. “You can tell me, whatever you want.”

A rush of rash, red shyness spread across Hongjoong’s cheeks. 

It wasn’t like his previous partners were inconsiderate assholes. Their communication started and stopped with making sure Hongjoong was stretched enough to take them in. From there, it was the same recycled “baby’s” and “love’s” and stale dirty talk. Hongjoong usually tuned out and focused on the physical. 

Seonghwa caressed his side, idly sliding his finger across each rib. 

Hongjoong chewed on his bottom lip. “P- praise,” he bit out. He dropped his gaze. “I like being praised.”

Seonghwa took his chin between his thumb and forefinger, lifted his head until their eyes met. “I’ll keep that in mind for later.”

“Later?”

Seonghwa sat up, yanking Hongjoong from the hypnotic haze. “Yeah, we’re supposed to be hanging out, remember? Getting to know each other.” His grin was crooked and entirely too adorable for how hard he’d just made Hongjoong.

“We can multitask,” Hongjoong said, trying to catch his breath.

Seonghwa snorted a short chuckle. He fell into Hongjoong’s space again and nudged his nose with his own. He inhaled.

Hongjoong felt Seonghwa’s lips pull into a smile on his cheek. He couldn’t help but smile too.

“Want to go out for ice cream?” Seonghwa asked.

“What, like now?”

“Yeah, if we stay on this couch, we won’t get much done.”

“And whose fault is that?” Hongjoong crossed his arms, cocked an accusing brow. “Can’t keep your hands off me for even an hour.”

“You’re the one who said you wanted me to kiss you.”

“I said ‘only kinda.’”

They stared, locked in an intense glaring match, until Seonghwa pecked Hongjoong’s nose and they broke into loud, loose laughter. 

“Ice cream sounds good.”

  
  


They walked about two and a half kilometers until they reached the edge of downtown. Seonghwa opened the door of the first ice cream shop they came across. Hongjoong nodded his thanks and went in.

The young girl manning the counter put her phone down when they entered. She ran a hand through her long pink hair and glanced over her shoulder, probably wary of a watchful manager. 

Hongjoong pressed his hands to the glass, browsing the assortment of bright-colored flavors. All his nerves must’ve digested his ramyeon, because his stomach growled at the sight of the glass jars filled with candy and cookie toppings on the shelf behind the counter. 

He let the girl know he was ready. “Two scoops of cookies and cream in a cup,” he pointed to the ice cream, “with cookie dough and brownie bites, whipped cream, and chocolate sprinkles.” He caught the subtle furrow in her brow, but neither of them said anything.

She set the finished sundae on the counter. “Will that be all?”

“I’m getting his too.” Hongjoong jabbed his thumb in Seonghwa’s direction. 

“What, no,” Seonghwa protested.

Hongjoong turned to him. “You got dinner. I’m getting dessert.”

“Hongjoong—”

“Not up for debate,” he sang.

Seonghwa frowned, but turned to the girl anyway to give his order. “One scoop of mint chocolate chip in a waffle cone, please.”

“On second thought, you can pay for that.” Hongjoong side-eyed him.

“What? Why?”

“Really, Seonghwa? Mint chocolate chip?”

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow, clearly confused about what the issue was.

Hongjoong sighed, shook his head. “I can’t believe I like you.”

A wide grin split Seonghwa’s face, before his gaze narrowed into that teasing stare of his. “Aww, you like me?” He moved to trap Hongjoong in his arms, but the younger tried to twist out of his reach.

“Oh my god,” Hongjoong groaned, cheeks hotter than pavement under the sun. He pushed against Seonghwa’s chest, but his embrace only tightened. The bleach-white fluorescent lights suddenly felt entirely too bright; the high-pitched, overly-excited pop tunes too loud. “I swear if you don’t let me go and order something else, I’ll bite you.”

“In public, Joong? Kinky,” Seonghwa whispered, laughing.

Hongjoong didn’t laugh. Without thinking, he put more force into his shove and separated them.

Seonghwa stumbled back, more from surprise than the momentum. His eyes were wide, unblinking. 

“I- I’m sorry,” Hongjoong rushed to say. “Sorry. It’s fine, just get the ice cream.”

The employee was kind enough to pretend she was restocking the cups and spoons, startled when Seonghwa turned back to her and repeated his order.

Hongjoong paid for their ice cream and led them to a table tucked away in the back corner. He sat in the glossy red, cherry-shaped chair, feeling smaller than usual. 

Seonghwa took his seat, movements steady, measured, cautious. 

Hongjoong rubbed his thumb up and down the stem of his plastic spoon. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“No, I’m sorry,” Seonghwa said, just as quiet. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“No, no, it’s fine. You’re fine. It’s not a big deal. I didn’t mean to freak out. I just…didn’t expect it.” Hongjoong watched the condensation drip from his cup to the reflective silver table top. “Just not a pda kind of guy, you know?” He looked up then and Seonghwa’s eyes looked so worried. He hated it. Seonghwa probably thought he triggered him or something just as serious. 

To Hongjoong, PDA felt like commitment, like they were announcing to everyone they were in a perfect relationship. Hongjoong had never been in a perfect relationship. It wasn’t that he expected relationships to be perfect, he just never expected them to last. And god, did he want his relationship—if he could even call it that right now—with Seonghwa to last. In whatever capacity, he wanted Seonghwa in his life and that was a scary thought, definitely too scary to announce to an audience.

“Joong, talk to me…please?” His voice was thin as a paper lantern and just as flammable.

Hongjoong held the match that would either light the candle inside or burn everything to dust. He didn’t want to talk about his previous relationships because Seonghwa was nothing like them. He wanted to forget them, pretend they didn’t matter, but that’s all it was: pretending. If they didn’t matter he wouldn’t have pushed Seonghwa away, physically and emotionally. 

Instead of speaking, he stretched his leg under the table until his foot brushed Seonghwa’s. Hongjoong felt him flinch, but he relaxed not too long after. He stretched his other leg out, tangled limbs to let Seonghwa know he still felt safe with him. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said, leaning across the table. “Nothing ever happened to me, nothing like…what you might be thinking.” He sat up, took a bite of his ice cream to lighten the mood as much as he could.

Seonghwa took a hesitant lick of his own melting cone.

“All my past,” Hongjoong chewed on the next word but it was tough like fatty meat, “‘relationships’ moved fast and didn’t last long and I...I don’t want that to be us.”

Seonghwa’s shoulders dropped and his eyebrows dipped—endeared, relieved. “Thank you…for telling me.” A smile soft as gossamer graced his lips. He took a more committed lick of his ice cream, eyeing Hongjoong with a brightness Hongjoong might’ve needed to shield his eyes from. “So, you really don’t like mint chocolate chip?”

“Are you kidding me?” Hongjoong sat up, offended. “You might as well brush your teeth and rinse your mouth with chocolate.”

“You’re being overdramatic.” Seonghwa lightly kicked Hongjoong’s ankle.

Hongjoong kicked back. “I’m being the right amount of dramatic. Thank you very much.” 

“When was the last time you even had it?”

“Mingi’s thirteenth birthday.”

“So you should try it again.” Seonghwa tipped his cone toward him. “Taste buds change every seven years, you know.”

“I’m good.”

“Coward.”

“Call me all the names you want. Never gonna happen.”

Seonghwa shrugged. “Suit yourself,  _ baby _ .”

And Hongjoong knew he meant the name as a taunt, but his inconsiderate head still heard it as a pet name, making his heart trip down stairs. He figured he’d put their promises into practice. “I like that one.”

“Hm?” Seonghwa had gotten preoccupied biting into his waffle cone.

“If you called me baby,” Hongjoong rubbed his foot against the side of Seonghwa’s, “I wouldn’t mind that much.”

Seonghwa paused. “Oh, just baby?”

Hongjoong wasn’t expecting a discussion. “I mean I like Joong too. Whichever really. I think I-” he bit his bottom lip, “I think I just like the way you say it.” He shoveled several spoonfuls of ice cream, brownie and cookie bits into his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut when the brain freeze kicked in. He swallowed. “Anyways, enough about me. What about you?”

“What about me?” Seonghwa asked, smirking, amused.

Hongjoong wanted to throw a brownie bit at him. “Nicknames, what do you like?”

“Surprise me.”

Hongjoong narrowed his eyes.

“Don’t think of one now.” Seonghwa giggled. “It’ll happen when it happens and I’ll be looking forward to it.”

“I’m gonna come up with a nickname so good,” Hongjoong swore. “You’re not even gonna see it coming.”

“Why do I feel like you’re threatening me?” 

“Just be prepared, Park.” Hongjoong pointed his spoon in Seonghwa’s face. 

As they ate and talked, Hongjoong learned that Seonghwa had been figure skating since middle school, apparently a late bloomer in the field. Hongjoong didn’t waste his time trying to tame the amazement on his face when Seonghwa explained how hard he had to work to catch up with the other kids. It had taken so many scarlet cuts and violet bruises before he placed third in his local community center competition. After catching a few sponsors’ eyes in college, he was able to travel and compete in larger competitions. 

Seonghwa’s voice swooped excitedly, but he didn’t trip over his words, not even when he told the story of how he sprained his ankle. 

“Have you practiced again, since healing?” Hongjoong asked.

Seonghwa stiffened, then breathed out just as quickly, hoping to have hidden his reaction. 

“I’m sorry, I—”

“No, it’s no big deal.” Seonghwa waved off Hongjoong’s apology. He bent and stretched his fingers as his jaw clenched on words unspoken. “So, in figure skating, you really only have until your mid to late twenties before you have to retire. I’m twenty-three and not as advanced, not really a stable investment.”

Hongjoong wanted to argue, to tell Seonghwa he had as long as he wanted to pursue his dreams, but he didn’t want to be  _ that  _ person. Before landing his internship with KQ, he was floundering around from minimum wage job to minimum wage job for a year after graduating. He was lucky and he knew it, which pushed him to work that much harder. 

“So would you continue teaching?” he asked instead.

Seonghwa smiled, surprised, as if Hongjoong had remembered his favorite color, which reminded Hongjoong he should ask what his favorite color was. That was, like, basic info he should know. 

“Yeah, I like teaching a lot, more than I thought I would.” Despite the harsh lighting, Seonghwa glowed, soft as dough and just as golden. 

“Do you have any younger siblings?” Hongjoong asked.

“Not by blood, but it felt like it,” he pursed his lips, “growing up with Wooyoung and Yeosang. Always had to bail those two out of some kind of trouble.”

“Wooyoung I can see, but Yeosang?” Hongjoong raised an incredulous brow.

“He was the mastermind most of the time, believe it or not.”

Hongjoong thought for a moment and realized Yeosang’s reserved nature did feel more threatening than just being shy. There was an unmistakable edge in his stare. “No, I think I believe it.”

Conversation flowed easily from topic to topic, a river curving around a bend, a moon waxing and waning. It was just like Foxy Fridays, but Hongjoong couldn’t deny the sweet electricity he got from having his legs tangled in Seonghwa’s, from having Seonghwa’s attention trained on him. 

He tucked away little things for rainy days—the way Seonghwa’s voice sounded like dark bourbon syrup, but got just the slightest bit shrill when he was confused or excited, the way his eyes rounded and shined when he was surprised or amazed, how he talked faster in his native dialect when he argued, and—  _ God Dammit _ . Hongjoong really was whipped for this man. 

The sound of plastic chair legs scraping across linoleum popped Hongjoong out of his pink bubblegum haze. He made eye contact with the girl who was wiping down tables and flipping the chairs, clearly making a show of it while she pouted. 

Hongjoong checked his phone. “Oh my god, we’ve been here for two hours.”

“What?” Seonghwa frantically looked around, as if his bubble had been popped too. 

“We should probably go,” Hongjoong whispered.

Seonghwa agreed, nodding. He grabbed some napkins from the dispenser and wiped down their table. They stood and bowed their heads to the girl as they rushed out of the ice cream shop. 

Hongjoong delighted in the balmy air of the summer night, inviting the natural cool after spending so long eating ice cream under stale air conditioning. He felt brave next to Seonghwa, the two of them the only ones on the edge of the city. A rosy light flickered in the center of his chest, terrifying and comforting, dangerous and steady. 

“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong stopped walking, “what’s your favorite color?”

Seonghwa looked over his shoulder, then turned completely when he noticed Hongjoong had stopped, waiting for his answer. “Blue, why?”

_ Of course it was. _ Hongjoong grinned to himself, shook his head, steeled his nerves. He took several determined steps until he stood toe to toe with Seonghwa. He looked around, before rising on his tiptoes, taking Seonghwa’s face in his hands, and placing a quick, innocent peck on his lips. 

When he leaned back and saw Seonghwa washed in the blues of evening, ice, and soft, reassuring certainty, a cog clicked into place. “Blue,” he said.

Seonghwa poked out a lip, confused.

“Your nickname. It’s Blue.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I appreciate everyone's patience. I hope the fluff was worth the wait :) 
> 
> The next chapter will likely be the last. I need to wrap these dorks' story up as I've started drafting a DreamTeez Vampire Noir fic that's more plot-heavy and detailed. Thank you so much for coming along and sticking around for this crazy ride. It's a real mess but knowing that it's bringing y'all joy and laughs makes it more than worth it. I know that I read fics to escape, so I'm glad I can provide that for others as well. 
> 
> Anywho, thank you again for reading. Leave comments to let me know what you think!
> 
> P.S. The pink-haired ice cream shop employee is indeed Gahyeon if anyone peeped. ;)


	6. Leaving and Returning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the support. Enjoy the last chapter.

Hongjoong shoved another spoonful of mint chocolate chip ice cream in his mouth as tears streamed down his flushed cheeks. “I mean,” he started between blubbering sniffles, “I loved him with everything in me. There’s no one like him.” His voice dropped to a reverent hush. “There’ll never be anyone like him.”

“It’s gonna be okay,” Yunho soothed, rubbing Hongjoong’s shoulder. “Take as much time as you need. You’ll get over him. Promise.”

Hongjoong jerked away. “Don’t patronize me. You didn’t know him like I did.”

“You’re right,” Yunho admitted, “but I also know that this is just a drama and he’s not actually dead.”

“Shut up,” Hongjoong whined.

Yunho rolled his eyes. “Shouldn’t you be packing?”

“I think it’s time for you to go.”

“What?” Yunho laughed, poking Hongjoong’s cheek. “Getting cold feet, puppy?”

“Puppy?”

“Yes, you’re a lovesick puppy going to surprise his boyfriend—” Hongjoong pinned him with a look, “Excuse me, his  _ very special person _ at his first figure skating event since his accident.” 

“I can pack in the morning.”

Yunho tilted his head, narrowed his eyes. “What time does the bus leave?”

“N- nine,” Hongjoong muttered. 

Yunho pursed his lips. He slapped his knees and stood. “Well, I’m gonna leave now.”

“Wait, why? We have one more episode left!”

“No,  _ you  _ have one more episode left, which is crazy because you only started this, what? Two days ago?”

“But, Yun.” Hongjoong pouted.

Yunho leaned down, his tall figure casting a dark and overwhelming shadow over Hongjoong. “No buts.” His voice took on a menacing tenor. “As president of the Kim Hongjoong Get Your Shit Together club, I’m making the executive decision to leave so you can get your shit together, preferably in a suitcase.” 

The threat in his eyes was sharp and Hongjoong blinked, wondering where his tall, sunshine dork of a friend had gone. He gulped, nodded.

Yunho’s face broke into a wide smile. “Good, we’ll catch up when you get back.” He left Hongjoong’s apartment before the other could respond. 

Hongjoong looked down at his sweating container of mint chocolate chip ice cream, then at the rolling credits of the drama. He paused the show before it could autoplay the next episode. After securing the lid on his ice cream, he untangled his legs from the baby blue throw blanket Seonghwa had brought over once and never bothered to take back. It had been a month since then. 

And now, with a bus ticket to Gyeongju folded in his wallet, Hongjoong didn’t know how well he was doing with the whole “taking it slow” thing. All he knew was that the pace didn’t make him as anxious since he was with Seonghwa. Whenever he got stuck in his head, Seonghwa would give him this look where he’d raise one brow and tilt his lips in that endearing smile of his and Hongjoong would be okay. 

He rose and went to his bedroom, flipped the light on. The past two days had been odd, being in the room without Seonghwa. The only times Seonghwa didn’t stay the night was when he deep cleaned his apartment. He insisted that these were days that required his full energy and attention. After seeing how meticulously he cleaned the kitchen after he cooked, it didn’t take much for Hongjoong to believe him. It wasn’t that Hongjoong hadn’t offered to do the dishes, Seonghwa just preferred doing them the way he wanted. Up until Seonghwa, Hongjoong didn’t know there was more than one way to do dishes. 

Hongjoong pulled his suitcase out of the closet. Hanging on the bar above were his clothes on a random assortment of wire and plastic hangers just beside Seonghwa’s clothes that hung from black velvet hangers. At some point, maybe three weeks after back to back nights of sleeping over Seonghwa just started bringing extra clothes over. They both agreed it would be the most logical development. 

Hongjoong only tossed enough basics in his suitcase for two days. He was able to finesse a couple days off from his internship for the trip. Right after Seonghwa had called him with the good news that he’d be participating in an event to celebrate the opening of a new rink, Hongjoong couldn’t get over the almost-well-masked disappointment in his voice when he told him it would be on a Wednesday. 

Hongjoong pulled Eden aside the very next day and explained the situation. By that evening, he had a round-trip bus ticket and a hotel room booked for two days and one night. 

The secret bubbled thick in his gut. Luckily, because Seonghwa was staying late after his classes to practice his routine, Hongjoong didn’t have to worry about lying to his face as much. He didn’t want to risk divulging the surprise at the first sight of those big, round eyes. He was pathetically weak for those eyes. 

“Gashina'' started blasting from his sweatpants pocket. Hongjoong took out his phone and slid the answer button across the screen. “Hey, Blue.”

Seonghwa giggled. “Hey, Joong. Just calling to let you know I made it to my hotel.”

“Good, how was the bus ride?”

“I slept for most of it, but there was the cutest baby sitting in front of me.”

Hongjoong could hear the cooing pout in Seonghwa’s voice plain as day. “Yeah? Did you contain yourself?”

There was a pause on the line, before Seonghwa’s timid tone answered, “I tried my best, but,” his volume rose, shrill and desperate to make his case, “she  _ kept  _ making faces at me and giggling. It was the cutest!”

Hongjoong laughed. “One of these days, a parent’s gonna run from you as fast as possible because they see your eye twitch from baby fever.”

“Don’t say that,” Seonghwa whined, offended. “I have good energy. All babies love me, especially my _favorite baby_.”

Hongjoong could practically see the eyebrow wiggle as if they were in the same room. “Seonghwa, I love you, but I will hang up if you don’t quit.”

The witty comeback he was expecting never came. He heard the sound of blankets shifting and Hongjoong wondered if he’d said anything wrong. “Seonghwa?”

“Sorry, I just- I was checking something, um, how was work?”

Hongjoong didn’t feel the need to question him further. “It was good.” Hongjoong went over to his dresser, opened the top drawer to pull out some socks and underwear. “Eden wants me to clean up a few of my trap house and R&B drafts for this solo artist that just signed with the company.”

“Oh, that’s exciting! Have you met them yet? To see what’ll best fit their vibe?”

Hongjoong muffled a snort at how proper he made the word “vibe” sound. Seonghwa had been trying to understand Hongjoong’s work for a while now. The older boy liked listening to music and paid full attention whenever Hongjoong went on long, verbose rants about production projects. His brows drew together adorably as he tucked away every term and phrase that Hongjoong tossed around like confetti. Hongjoong couldn’t deny the little joyful flip his heart did whenever Seonghwa would use a term correctly and asked more pointed questions. 

“We have a meeting set up for this Friday.” Hongjoong switched to speaker phone as he started placing his earrings in individual plastic zip bags. “His name’s Dox-something. I’ll have to check the email again.”

“Oh, his?”

Hongjoong paused, smirked. “Seonghwa,” he drew out the last syllable, teasing, “I didn’t peg you for the jealous type.”

“You haven’t pegged me at all,” Seonghwa shot back.

“Not for lack of trying.”

There was a tense but tempting silence over the line. 

Seonghwa exhaled a short laugh through his nose. “Miss you. Don’t stay up too late while I’m gone, okay?”

“I won’t,  _ Dad _ .”

“I think you’re forgetting a ‘dy’ at the end of that.”

Hongjoong stopped breathing, but remembered how it worked before he suffocated. “Is that something...you’re interested in?” He hated how he sounded like he was a waiter taking an order.  _ Would you like a side of light bdsm with your dominant deluxe, sir?  _ Hongjoong cringed.

Seonghwa hummed, really considering his answer. “Not right now. Maybe sometime in the future though? We can research and all that for a while before trying anything. No rush.”

“No rush,” Hongjoong repeated. He smiled to himself, relieved, grateful, looking forward to all the things they’d explore together. They had all the time in the world after all. Still, Hongjoong couldn’t help the fear that lurked around the corner and warned him not to cling too hard to the concept of forever. He couldn’t even use the b-word for god’s sake. “I’ll let you get some rest,” he said, before he spiraled. “I’ll call you tomorrow before the opening.”

“Okay. Good night, Joong.”

“Good night, Blue.”

-

Hongjoong dropped into his designated bus seat with just five minutes to spare. He pushed his baseball cap up, ran his fingers through his hair, and willed himself to relax. Everything would be fine. Seonghwa would be happy to see him and not at all weirded out, and everything would be fine. 

“Excuse me,” said a brunette woman, whose voice, friendly and earthbound, tugged Hongjoong out of his head. “I hate to ask this—”

A black-haired woman holding the brunette’s hand tugged on it to catch her eye. “Really, Yoo, it’s fine.” She pushed her round, wire frame glasses up her small nose. “I don’t want to be a bother,” she whispered.

Hongjoong sat up, gathering the situation and his small suitcase. “You want to sit next to each other? I don’t mind moving.”

The brunette’s eyes widened. “S- sorry. It’s just we don’t know how our seats got mixed up and we’ve planned this trip for a while now and—”

The black-haired woman placed a gentle hand on who Hongjoong assumed was her girlfriend’s shoulder.

“It’s no big deal, really,” Hongjoong assured, standing and shuffling into the aisle.

“Thank you,” the brunette broke into a wide, blinding smile.

Hongjoong bowed his head and sat in the right aisle seat. He kicked his suitcase under his seat.

“Oh,” one of the women exclaimed, drawing Hongjoong’s attention again. “Please,” the one in glasses offered a clear plastic baggie filled with pastel treats and tied with a shiny blue ribbon, “for your trouble. I made them myself.”

And Hongjoong knew they were strangers, but he also knew that she had one of the kindest smiles he’d ever seen, so he took the treat bag and thanked her. 

“I’m Minji and this is my girlfriend, Yoohyeon,” she gestured to the brunette who waved. “Are you also on your way to Gyeongju?”

“Yeah.” Hongjoong untied the ribbon and figured out the treats were macarons. “For the ice rink opening.”

“Really?” Yoohyeon’s eyebrows shot up, disappearing beneath her bangs. “Us too. Our friend’s skating in the performance portion.”

“No way.” Hongjoong laughed and picked a rose-colored macaron. It was strawberry flavored and melted in his mouth.

“Do you skate?” Minji asked.

Hongjoong waved his hand in front of himself, still chewing. He covered his mouth and answered, “My, uh, my boy…friend is performing.” His gut withered at the space he placed between the fateful words. 

Minji studied him, curious, intrigued. “Your boy…friend,” she repeated.

Hongjoong nodded and finished the macaron, pretty sure his cheeks were the same pink shade by now. He could hear them whispering to each other; he wished he could phase through the floor of the bus and walk to Gyeongju instead. 

“Minji, no, leave him—” Yoohyeon hissed.

“I don’t think I caught your name,” Minji asked, voice as pleasant and melodious as before.

“Hongjoong.” For some reason, he couldn’t quite meet her eyes, like his mom had caught him in a lie. 

“Call me nosy or a hopeless romantic, but this bus ride is long and I snore when I sleep, so tell me about this  _ boy friend _ of yours.” She placed her chin in her hand, waiting.

Hongjoong looked between the two women. Yoohyeon, embarrassed, buried her face in her hands, while Minji had not a care in the world. He could refuse to answer any personal questions, ignore her, put his headphones on and turn the volume to ear-splitting. For some reason, that felt disrespectful to Seonghwa though. Was he such a coward that he couldn’t answer such an innocent question about a man who meant the world to him?

“We, uh, we met at a skating rink actually.”

Minji leaned in, enraptured.

Hongjoong told her the abridged, family friendly version of them going from friends with benefits to what they are now and how they were just figuring things out one day at a time. He couldn’t help the dandelion glow in his chest when telling her about all of Seonghwa’s little quirks and how grateful he was for his patience. 

“He’s probably just as grateful as you are,” Minji interjected.

Hongjoong ate another macaron, glanced to his right. “Oh, I don’t know about that.”

“I mean, I’m only going off of what you told me but you match each other well and challenge each other. You confronted him when he was being a little brat—”

“Minji!” Yoohyeon exclaimed, now invested in the story too.

Minji turned to her. “What? He was, and that’s okay. We all have our moments.”

Hongjoong snickered in agreement. “I was a brat too.”

“Exactly,  _ was _ . And now you both are figuring it out and doing a pretty good job, I assume.”

“Yeah,” Hongjoong thought for a beat, “Yeah, I think we are.”

“So, why on earth won’t you call him your boyfriend?” She clasped her hands to her chest as if their story were a drama Hongjoong was telling her about. It was like a switch flipped in her. So soft and caring in one moment, so sharp and headstrong the next.

“I- uh, I mean-”

“Not everyone is comfortable with labels,” Yoohyeon offered, tilting her head and pinning her girlfriend with a look.

Although Hongjoong was grateful for the save, he knew deep down that wasn’t the problem. Every time he was with Seonghwa that word teased the tip of his tongue, eager to jump out and tie itself to him. Hongjoong knew, though, that just as that string could be tied so easily, it could be cut just as quick. It always came back to fear. Truthfully, Hongjoong was getting sick of it.

“No, it’s not that I don’t like labels. It’s just—”

“You’re scared?” Minji supplied, tone gentle again.

Hongjoong stared at his sneakers and nodded. 

“Everything in its own time,” Yoohyeon said.

“But don’t hold yourself back,” Minji added, “because we really don’t know how much time we have with those we love.” She smiled, bright white teeth on full display. “No rush though.”

_ No rush. _

Hongjoong didn’t know if he should laugh or cry at the coincidence. She made it sound like Seonghwa was terminally ill. Still, he supposed it did get him thinking. 

After about three more hours of them chatting back and forth, Hongjoong found out that the couple met in university; Yoohyeon was a political science major while Minji studied early education. Their love story was simple and sweet and Hongjoong couldn’t help but envy them a little. However, if he had to suffer a near concussion again to meet Seonghwa then he thought he didn’t mind as much at the end of the day.

The voice over the intercom announced that they had made it to their destination. Before they parted ways on the street, Minji held Hongjoong’s shoulder with one hand and raised her other in a fist. Her eyes roared with the flames of genuine, unwavering support. “Everything will work out,” she said.

Hongjoong nodded, inclined to believe her.

“Maybe we’ll see you at the opening,” Yoohyeon called over her shoulder, as they headed toward a cab.

“Maybe,” Hongjoong called back. “Thanks again for the cookies and the advice.” He turned to catch his own cab, climbing in, and giving the driver the name of the hotel.

After checking in, dropping off his suitcase, and changing into a white tee and bleached distressed jeans, he flopped on his back at the end of the queen sized bed. If he wasn’t careful the stiff champagne-colored satin could easily lull him into a nap, since he didn’t get a chance to sleep on the bus. Instead, he dialed Seonghwa’s number.

The ring felt incredibly loud and harrowing in the quiet hotel room. Hongjoong shielded his eyes, as the wispy moving clouds failed to block the harsh sunlight pouring in through the floor to ceiling window.

No answer.

No answer?

Hongjoong sat up. The high-pitched beep signaled him to leave a voicemail before he had a chance to gather his thoughts. “Um, hey, Hwa. Just calling to wish you luck before the big performance.” His voice trailed off as he picked at a stray thread in the duvet. Straightening, he injected some levity into his tone. “I know you’re gonna kill it. Can’t wait until you’re back,” he added just in case he listened to the voicemail before Hongjoong showed up. 

After hanging up, he checked the time on his phone. The opening ceremony started at 3PM. The time read 1:35. Hongjoong rose, wanting to have enough time to make it across town, buy his ticket, and see Seonghwa if he could before the show. What if he tripped up his focus though?

Hongjoong bit his lip. He pressed his thumb to his palm and remembered Minji’s assurance that everything would work out. Tugging his shoes back on and grabbing his leather jacket and wallet, he left the hotel and caught a cab to the rink. 

Once he was dropped off at his destination, he got out and was instantly swept up by a crowd of enthusiastic moms, laidback dads, and energetic children. A rainbow assortment of balloon bouquets flanked the entrance and Hongjoong could already feel the chilly air as people came in and out of the polished glass doors. 

He pulled the door open, then stepped up to an admissions table. “Just one, please,” he told the older woman seated at the table, as he pulled his wallet from his back pocket.

“Thank you for coming,” she said, a smile crinkling the corners of her eyes. “Tickets are priced by donation.” 

“Oh okay.” Hongjoong thumbed through the haphazardly folded bills. Seonghwa had teased him on multiple occasions for the sorry state of his wallet.

“Here for your child?” she asked, making idle conversation.

Hongjoong snorted. “No, I uh…” Pulling out one bill made all the others fall to the dark carpeted floor. He squatted to pick them up as quickly as possible without making more of a fool of himself than he already had. “No, I’m, uh, I’m here for my boyfriend.” When he stood and met the lady’s narrowed gaze, he realized what he said. Without saying anything more, he handed her 20,000 won, took the ticket, and tried to forget her knowing smirk as he walked away. 

Now that he could focus (in spite of his heart’s incessant pounding), he looked around the rink. Kids in candy colored puffy coats and fleece jackets clung to the walls bordering the ice, excited breaths fogging up the plexiglass barrier. Older teens huddled together, scrolling through their phones and sipping hot chocolate. Behind a plastic table near the concession window, stood a balding man in glasses, waving flyers, advertising classes for young and old. 

Hongjoong stuffed his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and made his way to the set of metal bleachers that were quickly filling up with people. Over the intercom, a voice called five minutes until showtime. 

Once Hongjoong took his seat, he scanned the crowd. To his left on another set of bleachers, he spotted Minji and Yoohyeon sharing a bag of popcorn, completely lost in their own world. Hongjoong looked ahead and there, on the opposite side of the ice, was a group of three dressed head to toe in iridescent sparkles. He squinted and picked Seonghwa out from the group. Even though he couldn’t see well, Hongjoong was already unsure if his heart could handle seeing Seonghwa in full costume. 

He felt a vibration against his torso. After digging his phone from his pocket, he opened his messages.

**Seonghwa:**

**Thanks :)**

**Sorry I missed your call.**

**I was in hair and makeup.**

Hongjoong smiled and pocketed his phone as a cheerful jingle started playing over the loudspeakers. 

A short, pudgy man in a grey suit stepped to the middle of the ice and spoke into the microphone. “Thank you all for joining us for the grand opening of the Gyeongju Community Center Skating Rink.” The crowd whooped and hollered. He continued his announcement, listing all the classes offered, the weekly free skate hours, and available concession snacks. He bowed and encouraged everyone to enjoy the show.

The lights went down, quieting the cheers to delighted whispers. Three spotlights illuminated three skaters, elegantly posed on the ice. And in the middle of a woman with sharp, inky black bangs and even sharper eyes and a woman with flaming orange hair pulled into a severe high bun stood Seonghwa, hair slicked back. 

Hongjoong lost his breath.

Seonghwa stood with his shoulders back, head held high, slim figure wrapped in what looked like a shimmering, opalescent skin of teals, silvers, and lavenders. Tufts of black feathers fluttered on his shoulders while gemstones were scattered down the center of his chest. His black trousers clung to his fit thighs and calves. His gaze was piercing, lids dusted in a smoky black shadow that glittered in the spotlight. 

A grand orchestral string arrangement crashed like ocean waves against the icy shore, causing the figure skaters to begin their performance. The woman with bangs glided across the glistening surface, neck stretched like a confidant black swan. She raised her arms with a gentle flourish as she skated around Seonghwa then around the orange-haired woman, creating an infinity loop. She ended with a bow on the right of the woman. 

Seonghwa followed the same trail, gesturing to the crowd with a wrist flick, cheeky grin, and wink, ever the natural charmer. The crowd gasped. Hongjoong was spellbound, too enraptured to be bothered by the infatuated screams from the teenagers a few rows below him. 

The orange haired woman completed the same loop, sweeping her blade across the ice in a smooth arc that ended behind her other foot. She gave a small curtsy.

The trio, back to the order they started in, raised their arms in delicate V’s and the crowd cheered.

Hongjoong applauded. The pain in his cheeks made him realize he hadn’t stopped smiling since the performance began.

The soft purr of the strings built up to a chorus of dramatic cellos and hollow bass drums. The lights went out again. When they came back up, only one spotlight highlighted the woman in bangs. She skated in loose circles, before kicking off, twirling in the air, and landing on one foot, the other leg extended. 

A cacophony of elated applause pushed at the rafters. 

Her spotlight cut, the next one illuminated Seonghwa. Waving his arms and cupping his ear, he beckoned the crowd to yell louder. 

Hongjoong gripped the edge of the cold bleacher. He couldn’t quite explain it, but there was something satisfying in seeing Seonghwa so happy. He was dripping in it, colored by it—passion. With the heat of it radiating off him, Hongjoong wouldn’t be surprised if the ice started melting. 

Seonghwa smiled like he was being welcomed home. 

Hongjoong’s heart felt too big for his chest. Tears pricked at his eyes.

Seonghwa put a finger to his lips to calm the audience. After kicking off, he took flight, spinning, spinning, spinning, a lustrous whirlwind of cool sea glass tones. He landed and sailed across the ice with his arms out, welcoming the raucous eruption of cheers. 

Hongjoong would be lying if he said he remembered much after that. The other woman performed a jump and they ended with some contemporary dancing under a multicolored shower of lights. When all three took their final bow, he shot up from his seat, clapping until his hands hurt. The announcer said something about discounts on classes. 

Hongjoong wasn’t listening. He was making sure he didn’t trip and bust his ass as he rushed down the bleachers. With a flurry of mumbled “excuse me’s” and “I’m sorry’s,” he politely pushed his way through the crowd of excited locals to make his way around the rink. Once the thick gathering opened up, his brisk walk quickened to a light jog. 

Seonghwa was stepping off the ice, pushing the stray hairs back.

“Hwa!” Hongjoong called, no longer able to contain his excitement. 

Seonghwa looked up, eyes wide, confused, until he noticed Hongjoong and his face broke into pure, lucid joy.

They collided. Hongjoong tried his best not to knock Seonghwa over, since he still had his skates on.

“You came,” Seonghwa whispered into Hongjoong’s hair, wrapping his arms around him and squeezing enough for Hongjoong to lose his breath. 

“I did,” he said, though he was pretty sure he was too muffled for Seonghwa to hear. 

Seonghwa loosened his grip but didn’t let Hongjoong go. 

And Hongjoong? Hongjoong was hooked on those shining eyes, those full, flushed cheeks, that lopsided smile. “That was amazing. You were amazing.”

Seonghwa laughed. “Thank you.”

“I don’t care if it wasn’t a competition, you definitely sweeped first.”

“Oh?” Seonghwa quirked a brow. “Does first get a prize?”

Hongjoong shivered as Seonghwa’s arms dropped to his lower back, pulling him closer. His head dipped down, and for a moment, Hongjoong forgot they were in public displaying affection.

“Oh, who is this Park?” The black haired woman with bangs stepped up.

Seonghwa let him go and stepped away, but Hongjoong threw his last fuck to the wind and grabbed Seonghwa’s hand. “I’m his boyfriend,” Hongjoong answered.

Seonghwa’s mouth parted, but closed just as quickly and turned to the woman. “He’s my boyfriend, Hongjoong,” he repeated, squeezing Hongjoong’s hand for emphasis. 

She placed a hand on her cocked hip. “Well, damn,” she gasped “never thought I’d see the day. Park Seonghwa on the ice again  _ and  _ with a boyfriend- Ouch!” She rubbed her shoulder where Minji had hit her. 

“Oh, hey!” Hongjoong called.

Seonghwa gave him a questioning look.

“I, uh, I met them on the bus ride here.”

“Small world,” Yoohyeon commented, joining their little group. 

“Sorry about Siyeon,” Minji said, pressing her hands to her chest, side eyeing the pouting woman. “I had no idea your boyfriend was Seonghwa.”

“You talked about me?” Seonghwa asked.

“In passing, don’t worry about it.” Hongjoong refused to make eye contact. Minji winked at him. “Anyway’s how do you two know each other?” He looked between the pair and noticed a scary resemblance as they glared at each other.

“I don’t know, just always been at the same competitions, I guess.” Seonghwa shrugged.

Siyeon scoffed. “Are you kidding? You claimed to be my rival and wouldn’t stop following me around.”

“Wouldn’t stop-? Really? ’Cause the way I remember it, you’ve held a grudge ever since I beat you in the ISU Prelims.”

“Didn’t make it past the finals though, so I got over it pretty quick.” She crossed her arms, smirking.

“Just like you got over me beating you at the Spring finals?”

Minji clapped her hands. “Is anybody hungry?” 

Hongjoong was grateful. Any longer and he was sure they would’ve ripped each other’s hair out. 

Siyeon and Seonghwa were still staring each other down before Siyeon turned her back toward them, nose to the ceiling. “Whatever, it’s just good to have you back, Park. Things were getting boring around here.” She walked away.

Seonghwa sighed, shaking his head with a tired but endeared smile. 

“Will you join us?” Minji asked. “Catch up a little?”

“I think we’re just gonna head back to our hotel.”

“Hwa, we can go if you want,” Hongjoong tried, confused.

“Skating after so long’s taken more out of me than I thought it would.” He rubbed the back of his neck, offering a polite, apologetic laugh. Hongjoong studied the odd display.

Minji was terrible at hiding how her eyes flicked between the pair, a scrutinizing grin tugging at the corners of her lips. “Okay, good to see you again.” She walked away hand in hand with Yoohyeon. 

“You didn’t want to eat with your friends?” Hongjoong asked, turning to him.

Seonghwa pulled him close again. “No, I had another idea.” He leaned in to Hongjoong’s ear. “Does first place get to pick his prize?”

Finally, Hongjoong caught on. 

The cab ride was unbearably long, half because of the traffic and half because Seonghwa said no misbehaving in the back seat. So, Hongjoong sulked the whole way to the hotel, hoping his poked out bottom lip would get Seonghwa to crack. 

It didn’t.

They went back to Hongjoong’s hotel, since he had booked the bigger bed. Seonghwa walked through the lobby beside him, silent during the whole elevator ride to the fifth floor. After Hongjoong unlocked his room with his key card and shut the door once they were both inside, he turned to Seonghwa. “Why are you giving me the silent treatment?” 

“What,” Seonghwa dropped his duffel bag on the desk with a loud thud, “does it upset you?”

“Um, a little?” Hongjoong racked his brain to figure out what he could’ve done between the hotel and skating rink to cause this. “Why are you being a brat all of a sudden?”

“A brat?” Seonghwa studied him carefully, as he bent down to take his shoes off. He placed them neatly by the desk and stood, eyeing Hongjoong again. “Well,” he said, cocking a brow, “Gonna come do something about it?”

Hongjoong didn’t know why his brain was running at the speed of a tricycle today, but realization trickled in the longer Seonghwa stared. 

Seonghwa stepped toward him until they were standing toe to toe at the end of the bed. 

A sweet heat pooled and swirled in the pit of Hongjoong’s stomach.

“I think this brat wants his prize now.”

“Y- yeah?” Hongjoong said dumbly, still trying to make sure his soul didn’t leave his body. God, they’d only been apart for two days, way shorter than that week Seonghwa was coaching out of town, but the desire in Seonghwa’s eyes was that of a starved man. Hongjoong felt that same hunger reflected in himself. 

“Yeah.” Seonghwa took Hongjoong’s face in his hands and kissed him deep and thorough, as if retracing forgotten memories. 

Hongjoong gasped, then gripped Seonghwa’s hips. He kissed him back, licking the inside of Seonghwa’s mouth, savoring the taste he’d missed so much. The trickle shifted to a roaring waterfall, as Seonghwa whined and whimpered, needier and more pliant than usual. 

Seonghwa pulled Hongjoong’s shirt out of his pants, tugged at the waistband of his jeans. “Want you,” he whispered, moaning into Hongjoong’s open mouth. “Please, take care of me.”

From a waterfall to a stormy ocean. Hongjoong’s eyes flew open.

Seonghwa stepped back and climbed onto the bed. He lied on his back, legs spread, chest rising and falling in a sad attempt to catch his breath. His skin was a glistening scarlet gold, still a little sweaty from earlier and his perfectly styled hair had a few strays hanging in front of his face. Seonghwa huffed, blowing a strand out of his eyes. “Hongjoong,” he moaned, palming at the stiffness barely hidden by his sweatpants. “I need you.”

And just like that they were back at Hongjoong’s apartment all those months ago, but everything was so much better now. The bitterness filtered out and left behind nothing but pure, honeyed sweetness. Hongjoong came back to the moment. “You need me?” he said, voice low and growling, as he crawled across the bed to kneel between Seonghwa’s raised knees. 

Seonghwa nodded, bit his bottom lip, still touching himself.

Hongjoong leaned over, hands pressed on either side of his shoulders, kissing him slow and tender. “This the prize you want, hm?” Hongjoong rolled his hips down to grind against his erection. “My cock in your ass?”

Seonghwa moaned, long and weak. “Y- yes, please.”

“So polite. Sure you can handle it?”

Seonghwa hummed, breath hitching when Hongjoong bit down on his collarbone and continued grinding. “Yeah, ’cause it’s you.” He tightened his thighs around Hongjoong’s hips, chased the friction he was so desperate for.

Hongjoong rose. They locked eyes, panting. “Are you sure?” Hongjoong asked. “I know this is touchy for you.”

“Just never…” he swallowed, still winded, “wanted to before you. Didn’t know how to handle it.” 

Hongjoong blinked, processing the new information. “Have you…been fingered before?” he asked, choosing his words as gently as he could.

“Yeah, a few times. I, uh, started fingering myself more after we met.”

Hongjoong felt like the wind got knocked out of him. He was painfully aware of how his dick jumped at the words. He gulped, tried to compose himself. 

“Say something,” Seonghwa said.

“Fuck, Seonghwa. What do you want me to say? That I’m flattered, that you’re valid, that that might just be the hottest fucking thing anyone’s ever said to me?” He kissed Seonghwa again, sloppy and insistent and overjoyed. He hoped his lack of eloquence got his message across. 

Seonghwa laughed into the kiss and Hongjoong relaxed knowing he was comfortable. 

Hongjoong trailed wet, open-mouth kisses down his neck, sucked on his throat until it felt like he was swallowing Seonghwa pulse. After coming up for air, he got up from the bed to dig the bottle of lube and a condom out of his suitcase. He dropped back on the bed between Seonghwa’s legs and started slowly pulling his pants off. “I got you. Tell me if it’s ever too much, okay?”

Seonghwa nodded, worrying his bruised bottom lip. 

“Hold your legs open,” Hongjoong commanded, noticing the choked out whimper his tone drew from the older. He squeezed a generous amount of lube onto his right fingers and even more on Seonghwa’s winking hole.

Seonghwa drew in a sharp breath at the cool liquid. 

After rubbing between his ass for a moment or two, he finally, slowly pushed his pointer finger in. “Good?” he asked, once he was buried deep. 

“Yes,” Seonghwa moaned, eyes already squeezed shut.

Hongjoong pulled his finger out, then pushed back in just as slow. He repeated the action until he got a rhythm going. Just as Seonghwa fixed his mouth to ask for another, he let his middle finger join in. 

“Hongjoong,” he cried.

“Gotta make sure you’re nice and open, baby.” Hongjoong squeezed more lube in the mix and quickened his pace, flicking his wrist every now and then to hit his prostate. In no time at all, Seonghwa’s frenzied, urgent moans were becoming his new favorite sound. 

Seonghwa drew Hongjoong down for another kiss, inhaling deep as if needing to breathe air not his own. When they parted, Seonghwa looked like he wanted to say something. All that came out was another moan. 

After scissoring his fingers, he pressed a kiss to Seonghwa’s cheek. “One more, Blue.” He thrusted his ring finger in alongside the other two. They traded syrupy thick, heated breaths back and forth, as Seonghwa keened high and pretty beneath Hongjoong. 

Once Hongjoong felt he was more than loose enough, he pulled his fingers out. He pushed his hair back and away from his sweaty forehead. No longer able to ignore how his hard on bordered on painful, he unzipped his fly and shimmied out of his pants as quickly as he could. 

Seonghwa sat up, yanked his shirt over his head. Hongjoong did the same. Once they were both bare, their mouths crashed together again. Despite how much Hongjoong just wanted to grind against Seonghwa’s length until they both came, he wanted to be inside him that much more. 

After coaxing Seonghwa to lie down, he sat up on his knees. He jerked his cock a few times before ripping the little silver package open and rolling the condom on. Leaning forward, he pushed past Seonghwa’s rim, eyes flickering between their merging bodies and Seonghwa’s pleasure-twisted face. 

Once he was fully seated, squeezed tight by the velvet warmth, Hongjoong rocked his hips. He settled for slow, intense, deep strokes—depth over speed. “You’re so tight, baby.” Hongjoong pulled back, letting the head rest just inside his entrance. He slammed back in, tugging a filthy, hoarse cry from Seonghwa.

“F- fuck,” Seonghwa groaned.

“Good?”

“Yes, yes, fuck, yes,” he chanted with each thrust. “I’m so full, s- so good.”

“You’re taking me so well, doing such a good job,” Hongjoong grabbed Seonghwa’s hips for purchase and sped up, grunting, “always so good to me.”

“Y- yeah, just for you, only for you, baby.” He wrapped one arm around Hongjoong’s shoulder, the other around his torso, as they rocked into each other, slamming the upholstered headboard against the wall. 

“You gonna cum, Hwa? Gonna cum all over yourself?” Hongjoong felt him nod, sweat sticky cheeks brushing against each other. Reaching between their bodies, he wrapped a shaky hand around Seonghwa, rubbing his thumb across the slit and fisting the length for all he was worth. 

“Right there, yes,” he whined, the sound like a high discordant violin strum.

Hongjoong hissed when he felt Seonghwa clench around him in a vice grip. “C’mon, there you go.” He fucked him through his orgasm, as his own stomach coiled tight and hot. Once Seonghwa calmed, he took Hongjoong’s wrist and licked his release straight from Hongjoong’s fingers. While he suckled on the digits, his half-lidded eyes stared, sated and docile.

“Fuck,” Hongjoong whispered. He came with a short, punched out moan. His arms gave out, as he collapsed on top of Seonghwa. 

Seonghwa hugged him close. “That was amazing,” he mumbled.

Hongjoong hummed, eyes already drooping, limbs growing heavy with contented exhaustion. 

“Hey,” Seonghwa combed gentle fingers through Hongjoong’s hair, “I love you too.”

Hongjoong rolled his head until he was looking up at Seonghwa with a questioning expression. He knew he was kind of out of it at the moment, but he thought he would remember if he’d said, “I love you,” before. 

“When we were on the phone yesterday, you said, “I love you but-” something something, I don’t know. I stopped listening, because I was processing.”

Groaning, Hongjoong closed his eyes and dropped his forehead to Seonghwa’s chest. “Oh my god, I’m the worst boyfriend ever.”

Seonghwa laughed, then rolled them to the side, arms still encasing Hongjoong’s limp body. “You are literally the furthest thing from,” he said, kissing Hongjoong’s nose. “You came all this way. You held my hand today. You said you were  _ my  _ boyfriend-”

“Things I should’ve been doing.”   
  


“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa caught his eye, suddenly serious, “I don’t want anything you’re not willing to give.”

Again, Hongjoong lost and found himself in those dark, earnest eyes. He smiled, knowing nothing he said could ever encompass his gratitude. 

“I’m so much happier with you,” Seonghwa whispered, as he curled into Hongjoong.

“Me too and I love you,” Hongjoong said, voice barely above a sigh.

Before long, Seonghwa’s breath slowed to a languid crawl. Still holding him close, Hongjoong maneuvered them so they could be under the sheets and comforter. If he was being honest though, Seonghwa’s body against his and the fact that he’d be there in the morning and every morning after was enough warmth to last him through the harshest of winters.

  
- _Fin_ -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew high-key never thought I'd finish this lol but the crazy support definitely helped me push through all the blocks. I'm blowing a big fat kiss to everyone who commented, to everyone who shared, to everyone who bookmarked and subscribed and left kudos, to everyone who didn't do any of that and just gained some joy from my writing. You are very much appreciated. 
> 
> Special shoutout to @dejirre, @heartbrew_love, and @thanxxboomer for all the love. I really couldn't make it without you all. <3
> 
> Thank you for sticking around this long. I hope you all have wonderful holidays wherever you are. If you don't celebrate anything, celebrate being alive. You're worth the fanfare. 
> 
> What's next? My highly self-indulgent DreamTeez vampire detective noir au; simply put, this will be a multi's paradise. However, there will also be HELLA ANGST. If you follow me into that one, see you soon. If you're just here for Crash, it's been fun having you here. :)
> 
> Twitter: @angeltiny13

**Author's Note:**

> Back at it again with these two! The longest one yet. I finally got to write some banter between them, which I had maybe way too much fun doing. Also, for some reason, they always end up in Hongjoong's studio, no matter what universe I write them in. As far as the ending, I know it's kind of open-ended and I'm sorry for that (I'm still figuring my way around writing smut, so I'm reading tons and seeing what I'm comfortable with). I might expand this into a series, adding different one shots here and there as their relationship develops, but I can't make any promises. We shall see. 
> 
> Anywho, hope y'all enjoyed! Leave comments and kudos to let me know what you think. :)
> 
> Find me on Twitter @angeltiny13


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